thoughts slowly repel
from the top of this bronze
plated cavern echoing
silence through the noisy air
describing a moment
lost in a minute raised by a second
i was given to watch
 
time countsdown forward
 
landslide
i felt it tingle
suffering the thoughts a token
broken, still, beneathe the current
outstretched hands that wove such gold
how could one remain so solemn
burdens of such
 
how can time let go

when i can't

neverending specks of hope
roll around in the palm of the Sandman
becoming smooth that way
they are able to creep into corners
dusty with dreams and
creased with cauliflower cobwebs
decorating the bland
plastered walls of wondering wisdom
 
and my indecision never fails
to ward away such untried confidence
when such silence still remains
when solutions lie unnamed
problematic I am one
guilty like these moments
when the passion falls absurd
trials so ambitious
 
voices that we hear if only below
 
but like always
we tend to walk
over feelings
 
this is no exception
 
how i wish these worries
would rise with the voices of the
ignored patiently waiting for
a chance they might be heard again
 
you'd be suprised
 
that I recognize such passings
even if I can't explain
with the thick air running circles
when the frozen just keep playing on
 
but knowing that our day is here
and the gap between what's real
and what we feel is closing swiftly
I'll play along
 
in fields of fury
scraping smiles from the skies
playing keep away from
sensitive souls like you and i
melting mysteries
 
theories of tapestries
twinkling with passion donated
from last-legged stars
hoping their light can shine in
others
 
as it has done for them
 
i hope it does for me
 
because standing on this hilltop
watching caverns slip away
with the sun painting gold
everything I see
 
I realize I am everyone
and everyone is everything
and we should rise again
and we should live again
 
it makes me wonder

how long will this go unseen
am i the only one to witness these miracles
 
drifting from the Heavens in snowshowers
of heated kisses eroding dead end stares
revealing the compassion burning inside
us all like a bonfire celebration of
curiousity counseled by charred
collections of complacent
contentness
 
and how was I set to marvel
upon such stones of malconent
when the breathing room is nonexist
and I know that I can't live again
in the end

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