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Path of Two
Folder:
Old Forcibly light headed
Through the thoughts you've embedded within me -
The dance that you've tapped
And has shedded my senses completely.
Stealing a glance of the sun on your skin.
Contrasting the glacier within my sighs
With your powerful lullaby. The kind
That shatters coherence
And brings my appearance to stand-still sketches.
Gasping for word-air with lungs so defenseless.
I guess... I'm just... totally excited
Over requited love and above all:
My ultimate wish to send you an essay of every word
Through paragraph-kisses.
Unending prose that is never quite heard
Yet understood in its premise. It's basic form
Adorns your soul's room
Like chandeliers of fears and light where Truth be near.
In your sight: the fight of smoke that never clears
Yet leaves us feeling clouds that choke us into silent screams.
Why then? Why do birds fly into certain smog?
Is it their winged-intuition providing visions
Of what lies beyond the fog?
Or is it blind desire to soar like never higher
Though it may be scorching fire in the distance?
Sifting through the concrete skies with swift resistance
Into the unnamed horizon.
Who's to say, though, I'm that bird?
Who's to say I'm even heard through muffled moans
Of something grown within these fragile mental-bones?
Who's to say I've suffered quite enough
To even bitch about the roughness
In the torturous abruptness of our broken cuffs?
Who's to know if all we cry is but a bluff?
When we die, will we have suffered something tough
So that our God will pity us and open paths to some comfortable wrath?
Or will we stand in place
Afraid to step across the painted line
That's traced across our uncertain yet future path?
