The world fell silent
But still you dance
With movements flowing
Like a newborn river
Knowing the path
The pattern
The way
But still unable to take it
Some thoughts from my sleep deprived brain on colorblindness:
What if colorblind people are actually seeing things right, and everybody else is actually colorblind?
What if colorblind people can actually see a totally different color and we just call it purple or something?
What if colorblind people are piercing some sort of visible veil, seeing stuff that nobody else can?
I stole your name
From the gusts of wind
And wondered
If it was destiny?
I’ve grown accustomed to the quiet
That lie beyond my door
So it was all the more
Disquieting
When I heard voices from the floor
I heard the whispers of gold
That rode on the breath of dawn
They were quiet
With their tickling breath
As i was sobered by the sun
You are the poem
That I dream to write
But fail to grasp
Each time
In the shakey moments
Between wake and sleep
I let loose the tears
That I didn’t let you see
They fall upon my pillow
And transform into rust
Reminding me that we
Are nothing more
Than dust
Kisses between
Desperate mouths
Inhaling like a drag
From a cheap cigarette
Remembering a time
When all we desired
Were words
Instead of actions
An icy, hollow bed
Where i lay down to sleep
A coffin as the bedframe
And earth as my sheets
My brother says goodnight to me
My father tucks me in
My mother sings a lullaby
About things that could have been
The world has never looked so gray
Or that is how is seems
As mother whispers in my ear
"Goodnight," she cries, "sweet dreams."
The rising storm
And the tumultuous sea
Of gray and green
Cannot be mightier
Than our love
And the sun
Without ambition one starts nothing. Without work one finishes nothing. The prize will not be sent to you. You have to win it.
Ralph Waldo Emerson