When the sheet finally dropped from their eyes- they felt lost. The time that had passed only served as a reminder of memories some wished were happier.
This is the crossroad of reality and fantasy. A breach between them and themselves.
It can be easy to sail through life- never really reaching deep inside and trying to make up reasons for why some of the puzzle pieces don’t fit.
Regardless- somewhere down the line- life catches up and a large part of whoever they are is likely a large part of whatever they’ve been avoiding.
It is hard and cold,
the best served dish
your mind will rattle,
at the mere thought
tests lay in the bonds,
paths this has crossed
time is a factor,
it can never fade
heart trumps brain,
today may be better tomorrow,
so long as you let go.
Slow down I have got you- I am here to catch you
Willing to share your despair,
live to combine this endless journey.
Willing to fight beyond the means,
live to see you make it through.
Willing to listen when I’ve had my fill,
live to depend that you’ll speak.
Willing to catch you when you fall,
live to make sure you won’t stay down.
Willing to find the way when the path is broken,
live to create our own when there is none to find.
Willing to sacrifice today to save tomorrow,
live to spend that tomorrow with you.
It lies within the desirable battling the fair
trailing behind the truth with resistance.
Laying claim to benefits- so crudely existing.
It sees the definition in the light battling the dark
reminding their is most certainly always a way.
Waiting to determine the cost of happiness.
It laughs at the notion of triumph battling defeat
highlighting paths seething in the wind.
Notifying this place of its true identity.
What is its consequence? Waiting, procrastination or stagnation of time.
Does waiting for something longer make its capture a triumph? That almost seems subjective. It is impossible to know that anything is really worth the wait.
What if the trailing of time never manifests into anything- you are left with regret- the real consequence of the lapse of time.
It is often mingling with a call to judge. Whose judgment can be to blame? Only yours can.
Not every regret is a direct result of it, sometimes it’s of circumstance. Though habits of circumstance rarely see anything as a failure of those judging but of fairness.
Where does waiting seep? In everything, the wait consumes it all. To get older, to learn, to be trusted, to gain access, to be loved and wanted. We wait for the perfect presentation- gallantly to grab.
Finally, we look to stop in that moment of time and to be free of this chain. Desperately, before it all begins to fall apart.
Waiting is no longer relevant as the picture becomes less clear. Traveling far enough away that you cease to wait for the result.
Creativity is a source that is strictly derived from life,
finding each day as a sculpture or a mold of a personality behind reactionary experiences.
creations of storms or beautiful streams of consciousness.
Representations of these elated versions bleed from us daily,
from the spoken word, the cloth we bare to the culture we encompass.
Fostering a sense of belonging to which we have arrived,
stemming from enlightenment of ideas long passed
heightened by the surrounding culture left to absorb.
Manufacturing a voice that has come into its own,
graciously awaiting to commandeer our own personal art.
It is content with only one purpose.
To deny the barrels of truth
engaging all emotions as one entity
commanding to encompass your existence.
Breaking the shell around your teetering thoughts
silently stalking, to pounce your nerves
finding the line to which you might break.
Stealing kisses to tears that will fall
discovering no end it is prepared to speak
blindly following for a treasure unknown.
Alive when only, a love is there to feel
a context to the depths of your passion
wrapped gently around your beating heart.