Burn a hole through it all and see the light come pouring through, Tear It all down just to build it up anew, Harden up yourself and find the resolve deep inside, No more room to breath, only room to hide,
The silhouette's cast a shadow yet again, Revealing light showing just whats hidden from within, Memories old dead seem re-awake, as your mind it is you wish to sleep, Opening up wounds so distant, and so deep, Holding on to everything that you hope to keep, Vapors in your mind that fade as you reach, Just as the path your on disappears while you retreat,
For them you chase away everything you knew, Breaking down all your walls to reveal it all, But as you look around you see no one at all They never seem to stay or answer your call, So now the steps to who you knew fade away and reappear, Harder now it is to move on and harder still to calm the fear, Time to grab the bull by the horns and try to steer,
They take it all for their selves, making you another trophy on a shelf, Just keep a' turning the pages of this life you try to live in good health, Taking it all in stride, the bad and good with no help, At times you have it all, yet with no one to share but yourself,
Standing, singing in a stale choir,… Timely notes, lower then higher…. In unison, the voices aspire , To conform mindless, but never tire,…. Soon the drone dulls the fire, A painted smile my soul calls a liar.
So breaking from the choir alone, .. Before my smothered spirit is gone, I seek a voice of my own,.. Though not lonely, and not always alone ….. Simply a song of my own To share with the music of all life’s songs, Each light, each fire, each breath a tone, The song meaningful, felt,.. and Gods own
With the raindrops, mountains and the sea, The stars and beyond each galaxy, Joined leaves waving on the same tree, Creating, being,…a sweet symphony
To breathe and cry, laugh and sigh, Color the world, dance in the sky, Our life being an answer, not a question “why?” With only moments to slumber, never really to die.
Standing, dancing, my soul is a choir, Dreams notes I sing, joy leaps higher, Oh that all voices will together aspire, To share love and joy, and never tire.
Each day I’ll sing, to tune my soul Learning the sounds, a part of the whole, Not just taking, but making a path to stroll, Being in each moment, transcending man’s goal.
When we all sing our music, life is lifted higher, And always rising, our souls are a choir.
The night closes down its comfort zone Drowning in the dusk of musk scented sleep Alone with wild energies seeking solace In strange arms, unknown banter As we leave behind the dancing day Busy footsteps in a race to finish at five
Heading home, the day trails behind Heavy footsteps locked inside a casket Of memories for tomorrow, will surely Bring its cold chill and diary notes To keep us pushing on.
Yet the evening has its own secrets Wine and wishes, sip by sip, as we unwind Our stories of a stressful day, people we met Spoke to in brisk tones, carried briefcases Of lecture notes, and walked the corridors Of learning, always mindful of the clock And learners grasping at straws as I, Deliver the technological wonders that Unfold in young brains, still unable to grasp How society heaves and sighs with wanting more.
Someday soon I will leave this job Walk in the wilderness of the country side Smell fresh earth and newly mowed lawns Watch sunrise and sunset and cows Grazing blissfully unaware of my presence.
Age has its own miracles meeting new goddesses From distant lands, who see deep into the simmering Beauty of what I create in words and visuals And who give all the praise and glory tenfold With unselfish sharing and caring. My heart beats for them.
I wish, I wish for those young and folly days When I wandered a strange wilderness Writing and reading and sharing and knowing That life itself was engineered to be like this evening Of velvet smoothness and silky toned romances That few knew drove me to write like this endlessly
Back to the night which has just waved goodbye To the last lingering twilight for today and pulled Its subtle robe of shadows and faint lights around itself And enclosed me in its delicate grasp of wonder.
I see my lover, far far away, as if, she were here, Reading and feeling and knowing that she is my muse And all the temples that I build with my words and visuals Are solely for her enjoyment. She draws me in a circle.
I sat close to the window, moved the curtains a little bit. As light fell on one of his books. "Parallel universe" I read out loud. Yep! he was a book lover and so was l. I switched on my phone and looked for his picture. "Don't worry, I won't spend much time with your memories, today, I promise" I said as I stared back at my phone.
I always made that promise, each time with the intention of breaking it. It wasn't my fault though, I had loved him so much. I could remember the glow he had on his face the first time he tried explaining 'quantum physics' to me, it was beautiful. But at the same time, it hurts to see the one you love, love another. But it didn't matter as long as he was by my side.
I took a cup of water, sipped a little though, then went back reminiscing about my past. I recalled on of my favourite memories, yes the one that hurt me the most. I told him about my feelings but he just brushed it off, saying that I wasn't his type and was only a friend. The next year he called my line, telling me he was sorry for leaving and had always loved me.
"How fickle can love be" I said as I dashed back to reality. One moment, all I ever wanted was for him to stay and love me, the next, I was ok with the fact that he left.
As I stared back at his picture, one thing made me happy. The fact that there was a time he used to love me.
Devin gave up smoking years ago, however he did not give up cigarettes. He carried a pack in his pocket every day just in case he gave in to the urge. Thankfully, for seven years the urge had been quiet. Perhaps it was because Devin's life had been somewhat stress free since giving up the habit. Maybe it was the fact he practiced meditation daily in place of firing up. Or it could be he was just stronger now and had it in mind not to let anything run his life, except himself.
Devin, Mr McMaster to the waitresses, had been coming to the Springtime Cafe almost as long as he had been quit on the tar and nicotine. A regular routine, he would show up just after lunch, trying to catch that quiet time before the after hours office workers showed up. With his daily newspaper laid out before him, he'd sit at table two in section three, waiting on his coffee before he'd begin.
His favorite waitress, Colleen, a young unmarried mother with a smile that lit his afternoon, would fill his cup. Black, one sugar. Then with a cheery "back in a sec," she'd leave him there to attend to her other customers if she had any. Sometimes she'd sit at another table in the corner to refill the salt and pepper shakers. Devin would reach for the pack in his pocket, glancing at her, before returning to his newspaper. Minutes later, he would be asking himself why he even read the rag, as his father had once called it. All it was was a reminder of how hateful the world had become. The only good news were the movie times for the cinema across the street.
Briefly he considered getting up from his table and walking over to the booth where Colleen diligently filled the shakers, slap his hand down on the tabletop and declare, "Miss, we are going to the movies today." Then he realized how stupid this sounded and it kept him grounded to his chair.