I think of you often,
When i brush my lips against a tree
When i clean squash from this year's harvest,
And make it into something you can brush with yours.
I release all the things that are raging between me and opening myself completely.
For to look upon the raging storm,
And still stretch you arms out to sea,
Is to find one's self,
And one's other.
It's okay to be scared,
I dont know everything either,
And isn't that what fear is,
To run from that which i dont know,
You could try to release this from you,
It is all there,
Right before us
Waiting to be felt.
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 1:06 PM UTC
I think of you often,
When i brush my lips against a tree
When i clean squash from this year's harvest,
And make it into something you can brush with yours.
I release all the things that are raging between me and opening myself completely.
For to look upon the raging storm,
And still stretch you arms out to sea,
Is to find one's self,
And one's other.
It's okay to be scared,
I dont know everything either,
And isn't that what fear is,
To run from that which i dont know,
You could try to release this from you,
It is all there,
Right before us
Waiting to be felt.
