All these window lights are people
Eating, breathing sleeping
Like the sunrise, like the moonset
Devouring the space given to them
Like a river, like a mountain
(Sleeping, waking, moving).
All these stars are dying
Emptying out their existence to the
Emptiness of the unknown
Devouring the space in which they seek
Like a river, like a mountain
(Sleeping, waking, moving).
Who is it that wanders in their mind’s
But the ones who ask the harder questions?
Who is it that goes down into the black swamp
And confronts the age-old cypress?
It is the one’s filled with light and dying
Like a river, like a mountain
(Sleeping, waking, moving).
Sep 29, 2020
Sep 29, 2020 at 11:39 PM UTC
All these window lights are people
Eating, breathing sleeping
Like the sunrise, like the moonset
Devouring the space given to them
Like a river, like a mountain
(Sleeping, waking, moving).
All these stars are dying
Emptying out their existence to the
Emptiness of the unknown
Devouring the space in which they seek
Like a river, like a mountain
(Sleeping, waking, moving).
Who is it that wanders in their mind’s
But the ones who ask the harder questions?
Who is it that goes down into the black swamp
And confronts the age-old cypress?
It is the one’s filled with light and dying
Like a river, like a mountain
(Sleeping, waking, moving).
