Written by: victor dixon

Nothing’s lost till you stop			searching;
it’s still on 				Earth man
with no reason it couldn’t be yours again.
And if every little moment serves a 		purpose
forgetting would be a dis-			service
no matter how painful it is.
When you long for the innocence of a 	                virgin;
the naïve laughter from a 			church van;
the times you took for granted when
all your dreams danced around the 		surface,
before they made you 			nervous
that they’d be drowned by loneliness.
And it’s easy to submit to all the 		hurt man
when nothing’s 				working
to free you from where you have been.
When peace comes at last you know you	earned it;
as precisely as a 				wordsmith,
you say you gave all you could give.     				            
Aware you own a soul where sadness is	                lurking,
but when time feels less			urgent,
you can promise to never give up again.
And there’s documentation that can as-	                sure this;
your trail’s not pa-				perless;
it’s where you stash your ugliness.  
When loss and hydration are painfully                     merging,
don't die of                                                               thirst man;
there's got to be a better plan.