Perhaps I’ve said too little,
perhaps I’ve said too much.
Whichever be the case Fante,
perhaps I’ll Ask The Dust.
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Tag Archives: life
To understand one’s suffering
To understand one’s suffering
Is to understand our own,
Knowing causes pain—
But still with hope we try
To understand one’s suffering
Is to be on their side, regardless
Of the awful many cuts
Through the tenderness of night—
Their aim is (not) to heal
But still with hope we lie,
To understand one’s suffering(…)
Like fruit picked from a vine.
Walking in the desert of night
For once in this hell of a lifetime
I’m not calling anyone out—
Walking in the desert of night stars
With my own well being
I no longer glance behind—
Finally I realize there is nothing left behind
Nothing that isn’t worth looking forward to—
My soul is clean, my eyes are clear
I no longer cry for those I cannot save—
Saving myself, one step at a time.
Silence.
There’s an answer in
Silence.
It may be hard to swallow
but it’s the only truth there is—
beside all that other of course.
These Veil Thin Times
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
Possibilities
People need very direct
forms of understanding,
otherwise
the possibilities are endless,
and for most, endless possibilities
aren’t always easy to accept.
Dreams
Isn’t it ironic.
The one place we go together,
we always go alone.
A story
There’s always a story to tell.
Always,
A story…
To tell—
Our eyes told stories
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.
(miss)Understanding
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.
Words Of An Average White Male 