Sitting here
Listening to the poetry
Of your inhale
Dreaming up possibilities
And improbabilities
Looking beyond horizons
And the skies of reasons
Your eyes like the fires
That burn in the hearts
Of all the children
The poets, the players, the actors
And every day dreamer
Wondering at the wandering
We all seem to engage in
What are we looking for
And where do we find it?
How do we define it?
What’s in a reality?
Who decides it?
Is it you, is it me
Is it that shadow clad they
Who loom over every second
Policing our every blink
Our every ******* thought.
Never a moment without them
Can’t we just find peace
And the beauty of time
Ideas and ideals racing,
Flashing like demented disco lights
On and off, on and off
Chaos and the whirlwind of feelings
And then
You exhale.
Jul 11, 2012
Jul 11, 2012 at 1:14 AM UTC
Sitting here
Listening to the poetry
Of your inhale
Dreaming up possibilities
And improbabilities
Looking beyond horizons
And the skies of reasons
Your eyes like the fires
That burn in the hearts
Of all the children
The poets, the players, the actors
And every day dreamer
Wondering at the wandering
We all seem to engage in
What are we looking for
And where do we find it?
How do we define it?
What’s in a reality?
Who decides it?
Is it you, is it me
Is it that shadow clad they
Who loom over every second
Policing our every blink
Our every ******* thought.
Never a moment without them
Can’t we just find peace
And the beauty of time
Ideas and ideals racing,
Flashing like demented disco lights
On and off, on and off
Chaos and the whirlwind of feelings
And then
You exhale.
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