Whether wind speaks
In the minds of mad men,
Shall we ever know?
To be mad is to know, and
Knowing is no longer mad.
Therefore who are we to judge,
Smudge the fact
The sun can speak,
Warmth upon your cheek is simple,
Carve the shadows beneath your dimples.
Tell a tail of love so sweet,
Whether wind speaks to me
It seems it's so...
Long that I've been close to you,
Heard your voice, and I've come so close to blue...
Skies can make you smile
While endorphins, been forced in through snow white clouds
Can shroud your beauty,
I just don't know how.
I feel as if I'm floating, sinking
Deep beneath the sea it seems
I wonder where upon my dreams,
I'd understand this world,
Or am I mad to dream of dreams.

We’re all just waiting.
Just waiting for something.
Anything.
Hoping it won’t pass us by.
Completely still, we linger.
Thinking it will find us.
We stand idly by.
Wishing, wanting, needing.
Looking for some sort of sign.
A peek into the unforeseeable future.
We yearn to have decisions made for us.
Not wanting to bear the consequences.
If we always wait, it will surely pass us by.