Exploring the catacombs of the others minds
We were so busy that we forgot to not fall in love
So now I know your soul better than I could ever know my own
As you say that this is just harmless fun
Even you don’t believe that now.

It is irrelevant how much we deny it
We’ve spent so long in hiding
But under the light of the moon and the sun
You looked at me in as I have never been looked at before
Almost as if you were examining my very soul
That is why I believe them when they say
There are different way to say I love you than through words.

It's been said once and it will be said many more times before this world is no longer in existence: the demons in our nightmares our reflections of our own lives.
Taking in truth and lies mixed with 6 billion differing perceptions can create one hell of a gruesome monstrosity, potentially unbearable to the weak minded **** wandering this rock.
This timeline is nothing but a river; constantly flowing and moving forward,
teeming timelessly along and never slowing for anything.
Existing with the only purpose of not existing,
but a vessel for us to keep track of events passing;
never to return to, but always to dwell on,
forever until it's memory is in existence of no living person.
The stark maddening darkness as well as the blinding goodness of the light; these things exist because we have given them the possibility to.
It is because of us that we give these ideas of dark and light the breath of life. It was here before our carbon based meat sacks arrived, causing changes that WE see fit;
ignoring the higher power that obviously will infinitely hold more importance than we will ever understand.
That's why we ignore it.
If we can't see it, it doesn't exist.

But if one belief--one single slice of faith perseveres among the unimaginable number of nonbelievers can change things; turn the tables, change history...


This timeless river of existence; why does it matter?
So we can be immortalized into whatever form or idea we wish?
To make a certain history for others to either never repeat resulting in insanity--or to repeat in hopes of reliving the greatness of others before us.

If all of our solid nightmares became reality; if 6 billion individual demons constantly existed by our sides becoming physically a part of us and breaches the mental barrier, exiting the realm of impossibility and stepping onto firm warm soil and sand.

What the **** would we do then?

The river never flows over the same rock twice.

Why dwell on the past?
What is it keeping you safe and warm and comfortable?

BREAK OUT
FREAK OUT
At least that feeling of losing it is true. True to you.
And afterwards doesn't it feel so much better?

Like you've been swimming in crisp clear water, smooth and supple like the curve of the first plump breast you wrapped your eager hands around.

Or

Like the cleansing shower after an hour and a half of a 109 degree hot yoga session, after the epsom salt bath and of course a handsome sip of your libation of choice.

My skin and mind are alive with electric curiosity thinking about it.

The liberation of moving on from the past.
The difficulty in moving on--continuing your life while the scars never fade.
You do it because you have to.

The morning dew is only there as a reminder of how everyday can be a rebirth.
Never is the same dew birthed dwelling on the exact same solitary blade of grass, barely visible in the ebony chill of dawn.
The earth drinks up the moisture while what's left melts away into the universe, into time, and into nothingness.

How does this not represent our lives and the metaphysical melting of our yesterdays pains and sorrows?

What about regrets?
We hold on because it's easy to put the blame on someone else. It's someone else's fault we didn't make a change sooner.
Wait, what?

We're afraid of diving into unknown waters.
You don't have to hold onto the dark romance of your past.

Together, we can stay fresh.

It is not a matter of 'you' or 'me'.
When using your heart to truly see
The difference in things and worlds that we dream
Obscuring our true vision of reality.

Solitary thoughts linger on the solitude
Breathing in the essence your presence shifts tides, waxes moons
Reaching out I'm blinded by black light, a dark veil, a celestial hood
Shifting tides
Waxing moons.

Harp strings make hearts sing a melody reciprocating love and light
No hint of betrayal, from mountain tops we hail true love's plight
I become nothing more than a breathy wind in a sail, the sweet laughter of a child; sacred and wild
Whatever is suffered in cruelty, in lust, this gravitational pull was always a losing fight.

The theory of 'you' and 'me' is a false accusation
Our spectrum of existence can't survive without the love we ride on; our own manifestation
When your heart reaches out, mine instinctively does too
To mirror you
There is nothing more holy, nothing more true
Foreheads together, contoured ethereal bodies of limbo floatation
Loving without limitation.
It is 'We' who translate the most ancient of creations
And 'We' who move forward through the fire of temptation.