that sound of silence.
Let it reach.
Let it echo.
Let me wonder.
What does silence
So many colours.
All in between.
So many emotions.
All can be seen.
over restless waves.
Ever changing is the sea.
This is a poem I wrote about 5 years ago and recently rediscovered. Figured I'd share it.
Idle days thinking...
All the time we
Time heals us.
Is it true?
Roses have thorns.
Evidentially the same applies to time.
A poem can take flight with our troubles
But sometimes instead the weight doubles
We carry something for so long
And suddenly we don't know what's going on
Dreams can shatter
It feels like nothing will matter
We try to move on forward
But we realise we feel cornered
Things happen yet time stands still
Time passes yet it all stands still
Life goes on.
My mind is an endless void.
In the midst of it is an obsidian cliff.
Abstract wisps of thought swirl around that central cliff all the time.
I am drowning.
I am barely hanging on to the cliff, to myself.
The thoughts keep attacking me, not one at a time.
Tidal waves of thoughts are crashing down on me, trying to drag me under.
Away from my sense of self.
Into that endless void.
Into endless void...
A glimpse into my mind palace at its most chaotic.
Summer is difficult.
It's beautiful, warm, rainy,
It's so difficult to deal with it.
I want to go fishing, go swimming, go running barefoot;
I want to do all those
All the things I used to be able to do.
If only I still could.
Tough luck, dearie.
I just have to make do.
I can write.
I can sketch.
So that's what I do.
And the summer keeps being lovely.
I listen to the rain dancing
on the roof.
I see the sun paint the sky
in all those absolutely magnificent colours
as the sun sets and rises.
The summer keeps on being lovely.
I live by the ocean. During summer I keep being reminded of the things I could do before I had my first epileptic seizures. It *****.