You told me you'd love me through the storm but as the sun began to disappear with the clouds, so did you. I never claimed to be a sunny day but I'm not a hurricane either. You made it seem as if I was causing havoc and tearing down houses. There were days where the clouds almost swallowed me whole and the rain couldn't seem to stop but you said it wasn't anything you couldn't handle. I used to be a sunny day with flowers sprouting and birds singing but there are things in life that change us and shape us into something different than what we once were. Damn it, I just wanted you to stay. With each strike of lighting, I remember how it felt when you first kissed me. With each clap of thunder, I remember how it felt when you walked away. But don't you worry, I'm going to find someone to love me through the storm. Someone that doesn't run away at the sight of lighting. Someone that holds my hand through the thunder. I used to think I was too much for you but you weren't enough for me. This was never about me. Love isn't supposed to be a sunny day--it's a storm. But if you stick around through the difficult times, you'll get to see the sun peek through the clouds.
I have come to you
Of my own accord
With broken hands and brittle heart
With fragile mind and fractioned soul
These tears of mine are part a toll
Till toll the bell o’er gentle knoll
Into the sun and by my birth
Once again a mewling foal
Fall will come and cold will break
Yet again for heaven’s sake
Creating music is so beautiful because in most cases it requires human breath
You give it something that is yours
Something that rested near you heart
And sat on your soul
If filled you
And you use it to fill others
To touch their hearts
To speak to their souls
Music is alive because you make it so
There is nothing robotic or ordinary about it
It's a living breathing thing
Music is a part of you
Your heart pumps to a beat
The veins pulse the same way
You literally have rhythm flowing through your veins
Do you realize you are a creation of rhythm and music
And culmination of gorgeous pulses and beats
The blood carries oxygen to your cells
That oxygen brings sound to your instrument
That blood courses with a beat
We are all made of music
All music is made of us
Poetry is the key to many doors.
Silent words reflect a most satisfying applause.
The rhythm on which you dance, the floor
turns into a river of molten ore.
And in the words a life may exist, a love that was lost
incomplete bucket list.
find yourself in the maze
Living lives in a matter of days.
Eyes unclosed, restless thoughts.
Here today, yet gone tomorrow.
Brain so crumbled, thoroughly longing.
Unwanted, and feel no belonging.
Crisp cool air, traveling tears.
Unknowingly facing all of my fears.
Wrapped up in a woolen coat,
gentle silence, fogged up throat.
Moving at such a momentum that is necessary for the mere realization makes any attempt of catching yourself futile. You’re moving too fast with entirely too much force. Your fingers scrape at hard dirt sides, the glass that sand once was cuts once again. Branches turn into hot, fiery rope in the palms of your hands.
And begin to ascend….