So what do you think the world is saying,
when you don’t get the attention of the people you’re looking to?
what secrets stream slowly out like shadows
in that silence?
what knowledge grows in the quiet of loneliness?
Maybe they aren’t who you think
you long ago learned the portraits you lovingly paint
are filled with your own ink
You can’t see clearly
so it’s time to move on
the windows may be just as ***** further up
but ***** windows standing still are clearable
Unlike the ever moving muddy rivers
your imagination took you down