There’s truth hidden below the dust
That’s gathered over time
There’s unspoken words that never need be said
There’s secrets covering lies
By spies who’ve centralized
That use metaphors
To send mixed signals to your head

I left her there in the dust
What I thought was love
was just lust
I believed only her I could trust
About intimate secrets discussed
But she sold me out for a price
What she said wasn’t very nice
Before I trust again, I’ll think twice
Too scared of rolling the dice

Feet touch down on brittle ground
Dried up from the drought
Waters scarce from scorching heat
No water from the spout
The sun is fierce without a cloud
To shade the light of day
Leading to the cracks in earth
Across the dirt and clay

Between the blades of grass
On a sun-rich day
Where flowers are done blooming
And the hare hop free in spades
There is an open meadow
Where memories are made
And magic tends to happen
In early June, late May

He gathered all his knowledge
Of what it means to be
The center of attraction
Without causing a scene
He wrestled with rejection
While still chasing his dreams
Crying for salvation
Unafraid to scream
He picked up all the pieces
While learning how to breathe
And upon further consideration
In a harsh reality
He shouted towards the heavens
Dropping to his knees
Begging and repeating
On just how much it means
To be dependent on the outcome
Of a long forgotten dream

You are a whisper in the chaos
A tender, lonesome, dove
Always a bit obscure
However, full of love
You are the seeker of horizons
In an endless sky above
A survivor of the mayhem
When push comes to shove
But love shall overcome
Of this, I’m certain of

He saw it clear as day
Even in the night
Visualizing everything
He aimed to bring to light
Each step he had to take
Grasping, holding tight
To the promises he made
After putting up a fight
With a goal to be achieved
When it seems nothing’s going right
Or when doubters; non believers
Disregard you out of spite
That’s when things get clearest
That’s when dreams take flight
Then putting pen to paper
Turning into a passion overnight
When all ideas flow freely
With whichever hand you write
And with a flicker of a finger
We watch it all ignite