when we are young, we write, “dear diary.”

When we are young, we write, “dear diary”

When we are too young to live, we write, “today I saw something interesting”

When we are just old enough to live, we write, “if only my thoughts meant something to others”

Then we write words for the souls of the people we wish would read our thoughts

Maybe they can change something

The world could be burning

The flames erupting from a piano playing home

If only my words could change the flames

Turn them into wind for a moment?

When we are older, we write, “is this all for naught?

When we are older than that, we write, “I’m at peace with who I am now.”

As we age we write, “descend into home, wherever the ones I love sit I shall stay”

And then we begin to look back and wish

If only we had thought of this then

I could sit and listen to the stories I thought mattered

And let them fly by

For vanity is vanity and I was vain then

I only wish to sit.

For the stars fly above me now

I wish I had gazed upon them one more time

 than I am able to.