The Raven waits
My answer’s no
Then leaves me with
His knowledge
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The Raven waits
My answer’s no
Then leaves me with
His knowledge
People always wanted you to be yourself,
except when you did, well
they didn’t like it all that much.
One day
When ready
I’ll tell you a story.
A story of a boy
Who never stopped running.
I’m just not ready
To break your heart.
The more I looked the more I noticed
people defending their freedom to speak—
when in fact it seemed and showed so clearly—
from their trembling hands to their worried eyes—
that they had given up their freedom to think for themselves—
and became defenseless, bold, and unexplainably proud—
having lost their voice long before it could ever be taken.
Wind Chimes float—
With effortless ease—
It’s something we—
Could never quite be—
Two souls swirling
In the restless ear of want.
Silence falls like snowflakes
Covering the field
Where birds like statues watch
My huckleberry heels
With frost left underfoot
The hallow ground revealed
Where doe tread light as feather
And sun spill bleeds me home
What I’ll never have answers for
Happened in the split of a second
And broke me for a lifetime in two
I can pick up the pieces sometimes
Mostly I have the strength, except
These other sometimes when
It all comes pouring out, when words
Make sense just enough to suffer again
A little less each time, though time
Time is often wearing me veil thin—
Like a dusting of snow covers ice—
I’m that unsuspecting victim
Trudging through a never ending dreamscape
Sidestepping, cautious through life
There’s always a story to tell.
Always,
A story…
To tell—
I’ll always remember that day
And keep it as a reminder—
That day in which you looked my way
And I didn’t have a clue who you were
And you didn’t have a clue who I was
That day in which our eyes told stories—
As to what is most important.
So if and when we lose our way, I know
Together we’ll find ourselves again—
Where eyes can say what words cannot express—
And stories, we, can only tell together.
At some point you just let go,
and that need to be understood
just drifts by the wayside.
Like a dog is a dog, a cat is a cat—
with or without the mustard.