Life is a river flowing.
With many curves,
The ebb and flow of the channels and estuaries.
The paths change over time.
Big life events are the floods that completely reshape our river. For better or worse.

When one area becomes too difficult to navigate, we branch off and try and find an easier path.

As we get older, the river changes from a large, deep, slow-flowing river that we seem to drown in forever, and slowly transforms in to the fast, shallow stream; we can finally float, but things are moving much faster.

And all rivers lead to the ocean. Our enlightenment. Our freedom. Our peace. Where our legacies become little raindrops,
To start the journey all over again.

Home is where the heart is,
As the home wanders through the vacancy of confusion,
A heart follows in stride.

To know where home lies,
As we sit alone,
Standing by, waiting to be shown our streets of gold,
As we wander with these hearts of stone.

A home is never far away.
Or so I've been told.

You blame me for what happened,
Don't you.
I guess it's okay...
I blame me too,
If I wasn't there,
She still would be.

If I had locked it up...
she wouldn't have used it...
and then,
You'd have no one to blame.

It's okay,
I've secretly claimed this fault for my own anyway,
Shoulder'd the burden of it all...

It was my gun,
after all...


If I'd come home just a little earlier,
If I'd been the son I should have been,
If I'd swallowed my f*cking pride and just told her I loved her,
My mother may still be here...

You blame me for what happened,
I understand...
It's okay,
I blame me too...

The desperate search,
For some familiar earth.

The rise of the uncontrollable,
Until we resort to the toll of will,

The anxious blade,
Is the friend we made.

In our trying times,
That made tunnels of our eyes.

When our dice fall upon the zero,
There's no telling where we'll go,

Except to our secret place,
Where we've hidden our friendly blade.

Pain to distract from pain,
Just another color in our endless rain.

Ashamed of what we've done,
The scars we bear,
Are proof that we've won.
Because we were there.

Because we're still here.

For the memories of those who aren't,
Now would warrant a graceful tear.

For our brothers and sisters in arms,
and the arms who've bled,
we're the ones who know...

Just how strong we are.

You've made it this far,
There's no telling where you'll go

~Robert van Lingen

Coming to terms with the tears,
The knife shunt into my side,
The days wasted,
And the years gone by....

Who was I, then?
Where am I now?

Beneath me the ground shakes unrelentingly,
The objective to set me falling.

My heart stands up on its own two legs,
And walks away from the strength I'd spent years rebuilding,
Only to stare at what tore it apart in the first place,
Enthralled by the fact that it's all history,
But then he just speaks to the mind,
Then he, too, joins the nostalgic glare.

Now it's as if it were yesterday.
I need not open up wounds that never even closed.

I simply forgot they were bleeding.