in consciousness i find forgotten intention. at the edges and ends of unconscience i find belayed response. for reflection or retort, anticipating resorted affliction, or settling seemingly to soft silence, til stirred. a remarkably straight horizon with perpetually false edge. where response may be but no end will lay, save for each dawn and dusk of new day. and the glints and peaks and varied intercourses of trespassers will leave no stay til too many years.
you’ll see your world was all their clay
and what they mold is what you see
and what they think is what you’ll be
revealed in dark to overwhelm and drag beyond the quiet realm / absorbed in light of rippled thought within a world that magic sought / essential reason, patience to a truth that is not always true / a peace that is not always calm, entrapped within a fickle palm / a love that grows within a calm encouraged by a gentle palm / and painting ground where risings fall with glittered dreams, slighting strife, we’ll make our ways and triumph all, sipping smiles from sugared life.
goodnight
i find myself perpetually patronizing the pieces of my life… those pieces that i am not interested in keeping, but have been slotted in my path for color, i suppose. and then it rains… before or after i miss the sun that i know is promised to me. how lonely is a star? so far from other vibrant orbs, so surrounded by big rocks…that are so comparably small, but eat so much light. but if i can still hear my voice, then the mood of my scenes are bound to my themes… and my music always moves me.
It’s not important till she cries; it’s not serious till she’s gone.
You’ll have all the time to wonder why you left her alone so long.
What made you believe she’d be safe away from your arms?
That she’d believe you’d never let her go, when you already have?
You’d kiss her now, you’d come for her now; say anything to make her believe you again.
Were you lost at sea? She lived without you, alone on land…your love for her found drying on the shore…
You complained the sand would scrape you… ‘doesn’t matter anymore.
You won’t find her in the clouds or a castle made of sand..
You were too long lost at sea and left her lost on land.
One more promise for you to make; demand her heart for you to break..
What would you give her when she has nothing left for you to take?
She looked so lovely upon a pillowed heart of open sores..
But the magic leaves with her—gone to her new castle with nightingale floors.
who you would walk with to the end of the earth… even when you know you’ll be walking back alone.
Your voice would fill my heart with promises
And we could keep them together
so many people crying
and many people trying
so what am I supposed to do?
I can cry too, I can try too,
And I can be true…
surely this is what life is. the brief moments…the little realizations…the small things learned…or remembered. what could be more reliable? more comforting than the erraticacy of thought… the precision of observation and the controversy of definition… this is the place that has chosen me; this is the life that i carry and puzzle over, basking in each found glory of each new moment, each old truth learned. and in the moments that simply pass, without event… i revel in that too… my greediness seems only to earn me more… the center of life and infinity is owned by perception of perpetuity… i can almost see it beginning again…
![iching: Fêng - Abundance [Fullness]](https://ferrydust.com/images/21.gif){kind=small}