The river bank is erroding,
but the trees stay rooted--
above is the sky, and
beyond is where the
tundra lies.
A life so different, and yet vaguely
familiar.
It is Sunday, and you can find me in
the desert.
My mind cannot identify the differences
in the bodies of water from
my Alaskan
memories,
or the one that is before me.
I am only able to
recognize that there is always
movement.
The current so calm, just like the
beating of my heart, the gliding of
the clouds.
If you could find my hand, would there
be any love left
to give?
I cannot hide in my skin, only
submerge into my
thoughts.
"I beg your pardon Miss, you are not
just carbon,
you have got a purpose."
One day I'll release this pen,
and free all the
fear.
I hope to never be found.
This distance, by no means will hold me
captive.
It is time for me to embrace it,
For I worry it is not far enough.
Aug 19, 2010
Aug 19, 2010 at 12:10 AM UTC
The river bank is erroding,
but the trees stay rooted--
above is the sky, and
beyond is where the
tundra lies.
A life so different, and yet vaguely
familiar.
It is Sunday, and you can find me in
the desert.
My mind cannot identify the differences
in the bodies of water from
my Alaskan
memories,
or the one that is before me.
I am only able to
recognize that there is always
movement.
The current so calm, just like the
beating of my heart, the gliding of
the clouds.
If you could find my hand, would there
be any love left
to give?
I cannot hide in my skin, only
submerge into my
thoughts.
"I beg your pardon Miss, you are not
just carbon,
you have got a purpose."
One day I'll release this pen,
and free all the
fear.
I hope to never be found.
This distance, by no means will hold me
captive.
It is time for me to embrace it,
For I worry it is not far enough.
