Here we are, Still standing, our feet nailed to the ground, Never bowing, relentlessly fighting, Here we are, Regretting, never forgetting, Ruthlessly moving forward. Here we are, Bloodied, beaten, Never giving up.
He is a delicateness a tender beautiful mess He is the softness of the papers of an old book He is that forgotten wetness of shy kissed lips He is that sudden leap in her heart when she smells rain He is all those tiny things unseen and untouched Believe me he is all that I have touched and cherished.
He is the emptiness of a broken summer's moon. Believe me he is.
Don't you see? Beyond this working and moving a star trembles in the dark You speak to me and all I seem to see is the grace with which your voice mixes with the breeze. Measurement I do not understand Dimension I am Language suffocates me I am the air that chokes my throat.
Here I am lying against this pillow again As the moon's haunting the starless sky at the same hour of dusk As a trembling secret writhes under the mud Growing into my roots screaming through my leaves Moaning like moontides on a full moon night And here I am lying down staring at the sleepy shadows walking away slowly on this ceiling Behind me, a window to eternal space.
Silver fog the stairs wet knock knock would you let the winter enter your door would you let her swallow the floor underneath your toes collapsing into her heart would you meet her there waiting in the womb of silence
In my world there is a gem... On which there are two predominant facets. It has never been just me, or just you... It is us... Marooned on a little cast off islet.
If I could take just one sip from the fount of transitory courage, I'd take the leap into waters deep. So I could pave the route for our safe passage.
To freedom and love... Without restrictions or restraint. If only we could... We'd harness from the infinite palette above and with it, boundless magic we would paint.
These words... They traverse the fine line between earth and sky. They dwell not, surface-deep in the dirt. They be haloed not, as the chorus of heaven.
They're just murmurs that swim intangible. Like reticulated wisps of smoke. Incapable of materialising... Or take definite forms on their own.
They only await to be carefully selected, rearranged and harnessed into a jar... Before being sealed infinite with a title.
Be quiet and still... For you will hear them. Milling and floating in the silence that exists between your heartbeats.
Listen close... For they are fragments of you and the universe. They're thoughts and feelings that come awake as you slumber.
Awaiting to be selected... Awaiting to be rearranged... Awaiting to be harnessed...
By you, the conduit with a pen.
. I believe almost everyone can write... Just quieten down and pick up a pen. Harness the universe and conjure magic. .