The steps are the steps
inward and flowing,
downward and away,
no time for possibility,
my mind has gone astray.
I chase not the chance of a certain moment,
I planned the time it took to hold it,
Not the falling that morphs the thought,
It is the telling that is yet taught,
We are rarely are own dreams,
Most times battling internal screams,
Merely a prospector of our own demands,
Turning to keep a little head above the sand,
That is thick and I am sinking oh so quick,
into a ground that devours my wit,
Making it so hard for me to state,
But I can't understand why she won't open the gate.....
Feb 22, 2014
Feb 22, 2014 at 12:33 PM UTC
The steps are the steps
inward and flowing,
downward and away,
no time for possibility,
my mind has gone astray.
I chase not the chance of a certain moment,
I planned the time it took to hold it,
Not the falling that morphs the thought,
It is the telling that is yet taught,
We are rarely are own dreams,
Most times battling internal screams,
Merely a prospector of our own demands,
Turning to keep a little head above the sand,
That is thick and I am sinking oh so quick,
into a ground that devours my wit,
Making it so hard for me to state,
But I can't understand why she won't open the gate.....
