The silence of this place, this spot where I
find myself hiding, is all around me. Denial
of the sky becomes my position as I trap
the bubbles of rare soil in my heart. I stop
the doubt by creating a new dwelling where
I shall hide away in my dreams. The silence
keeps me company in the every growing
growl of early surrender. The winds of change
flip around me, for they cannot reach me in
my sorrowful abode. I am counting the minutes
until I can safely reach distance with my
wavering breast of trust. I cry out but the silence
is too fulfilling, nothing shall be heard ever more
from my lips by any other living organism. Trusting
only myself I force my mind to concentrate on what
needs to be growing and the flowing of the wind
does not tamper with my view. I am immersed in
this place. I am trapped by my own decision, which
creates a bond with bared heart. I am drifting through
frosted lawns where the grass has been sown but
as yet is not growing. My flavoured tongue whispers
in the pulsating glare of brightly burring wood which
I had collected to start a fire. The flames entertain
and I wonder how much longer I shall have to stay
here in this hiding place where silence is the master
of all that I am. Gazing past myself I can only imagine
the cloak of fog that will surround me as I barricade
the doors of my vision. I am what I am; I am what
I was. My question is "will I truly ever be what
I must be?" Silence. Hope. Words of revival. These
sounds must be firm. These pockets of helpless clouds
must be lifted. I sigh. The sunlight is blinding me.
Apr 27, 2016
Apr 27, 2016 at 4:59 PM UTC
The silence of this place, this spot where I
find myself hiding, is all around me. Denial
of the sky becomes my position as I trap
the bubbles of rare soil in my heart. I stop
the doubt by creating a new dwelling where
I shall hide away in my dreams. The silence
keeps me company in the every growing
growl of early surrender. The winds of change
flip around me, for they cannot reach me in
my sorrowful abode. I am counting the minutes
until I can safely reach distance with my
wavering breast of trust. I cry out but the silence
is too fulfilling, nothing shall be heard ever more
from my lips by any other living organism. Trusting
only myself I force my mind to concentrate on what
needs to be growing and the flowing of the wind
does not tamper with my view. I am immersed in
this place. I am trapped by my own decision, which
creates a bond with bared heart. I am drifting through
frosted lawns where the grass has been sown but
as yet is not growing. My flavoured tongue whispers
in the pulsating glare of brightly burring wood which
I had collected to start a fire. The flames entertain
and I wonder how much longer I shall have to stay
here in this hiding place where silence is the master
of all that I am. Gazing past myself I can only imagine
the cloak of fog that will surround me as I barricade
the doors of my vision. I am what I am; I am what
I was. My question is "will I truly ever be what
I must be?" Silence. Hope. Words of revival. These
sounds must be firm. These pockets of helpless clouds
must be lifted. I sigh. The sunlight is blinding me.
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