The hands of time rewind then
tears roll up our face and back inside the eyes.
Frowns turn back to smiles
and dark clouds roll back as the sun comes back out to shine. We're left there;
into each other's eyes we stare, becoming frozen in time
as thoughts of choices to make and consequences that'll come still roll around in my mind.

Words are felt but never spoken, still I knew it would change the future.
She couldn't put a finger on it but felt the same, as we stared we seen goodbye in both of our eyes.
it's so crazy; life is strange.

I can sense the flame is getting dim, will we lose or will we win?
I much rather we tend to this fire then to start all over again.
Some things that are lost can be found but we haven't lost a **** thing yet, and I would hate for us to lose the love and forget how we ever became friends.
Cuz that's how it started and then you got in my heart and made yourself at home, so they'll be remnants of your beautiful soul if ever you had to go.
Please don't go, let us not lose this flame or its glow,
because ever since we've connected you and I have became one soul.
There goes that dim...and the flame is flickering, are there demons in this room trying to **** whatever's left?
Well I'm calling on angels to help by coming to fight for us, because this battle we've been facing is more in the unseen dimensions of our love.
Come fight for us...

We were laying there,
into the air I stared with eyes wide open
but I could never speak on what I had seen.
To do so would mean that I disturbed her soul, and woke her up out of her fantasies.
Why question, or penetrate to provoke the mind to critically think
when even the blink of her eyes wouldn't  change things?
So should I continue to lie there with my eyes open and stare, not saying a thing, or should I quietly get up, pack up my stuff and just leave her be?

These scales always tipping,
this mind always spinning...
Oh slow me down, slow me down;
insane, yet I am sound.
Momma never knew how deep it could get when she placed her son right near the sun;
the kids used to call me a rocketship.
"Apollo 13! Apollo 13!" Now I'm beginning to figure out what all of this means.
I'm light years away suspended in space, wondering if they'll ever come and meet with me.

Oh, but it's much more than that. With this lyre attached to my back and music in my heart, I give you songs of poetry straight from the stars of Libra.
Can you see the constellation?
This October soul gets in touch through the element but I'm no prince of the air;
learning to use discernment with these gifts I've been given, I am very much aware.
Nobody can tell me who I am, only experience can wake me up to searching...
That's why I have gone beyond the sky a long time ago and haven't come down yet.
Way over their heads I am floating...

You'll be asleep but I'll be spending my nights howling at the moon.
But if you've ever wondered if wolves cry baby, well they do...
I'm known by many, yet understood by a few.
A mystery but I tell my story through simple words,
turning pain to gold, the alchemist unfolds his truths from the philosophers stone.
I am a paradox because I enjoy your presence, yet I would rather be left alone.
With a few books in a sack full of pencils and paper; watch this poet as he continues to roam...

Fluttering of wings
Angelic things, mysterious in the same
Ripples from choices made can rewrite narratives
In just a blink of an eye all things can change
Wishing you had control of the past, and that you held tighter on the reins, blinds your view and holds you down with a heavy load of regret
Don't let your soul burn away like a moth in a flame
Though you've been hit by the butterfly effect

Allegories of euphoria drip from pen, triggering deja vu.
Spiraling down holes where white rabbits go with a clock around my neck; don't wanna be to late to open up and look through a different point of view.
Spitting out bones as I chew; infinite elasticity makes room for truth when the fear of searching has faded. Becoming aware of the bluescreen and the avatar of which I exist in, I'm breaking through the cages.
There's so many checkered floors and doors that lead to more doors. Huge ones you can walk on through and small ones only built for the willing to crawl.
What's a life lived without seeking for truth and knowledge?
What's life like beyond Truman's wall.