Warmth

Gusts and squalls, hail and storms,
You cyclonic vortices of wind
That chill and drench, try and wrench
Open hands that surround the flame!

Skin is scarred, and dry cuts bleed
And hairs stand up on their end.
Wind through fingers; the flame flutters
And threatens to die out on me.

Know that I shan't, know that we won't
Give up on this tender glow.
'Cause when you are gone, and you will be gone
I will be left with the warmth of the flame. 
 

You Only Live Once

If you stand ground when high-meanings around you

Are talking of the good and the evil that men do;

If you trust nothing, not even the men about you

And know that they, too, are doubting you;

If you get out there, without tarrying or waiting,

Or know the art of deceit, while detecting lies

Or know that loving is pointless, as is hating,

That here and now is just a throw of dice:

If you can dream – and achieve your dreams faster

Than friends and colleagues who have a similar aim;

If you love your hair-gel, lipstick or plaster,

And see them as tools to up your game;

If your actions don’t depend on words you’ve spoken

If men, to you, are breathing flesh and tools:

Tools that build, tools that sometimes are broken,

Tools that are replaced by similar fools:

If you make a heap of all your morals

And burn it in a massive, consuming flame,

And begin to trade in anything that sells,

And laugh at rules, and all things tame;

If you enjoy yourself, and always stay new,

And learn to live in society, alone,

And talk of freedom – what it means to you

Without making yourself to meanings, prone;

If you lead crowds with words of empty humour,

Or flatter kings, with your music and touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends matter,

If you let go saying, “This is all too much”;

If you can fill life’s every minute,

With proud memories of mistakes done,

Yours is everything, because nothing is in it,

And remember—you only live once, my son!