A poem in depth
It is remarkable just how much of a daze someone can be in. This fog. This haze. The allowance of wonder to sit inside you. Eating. Yet in the midst of it all you see how much dreams and reality do cross over each other. One step at a time. A bit of kindness that vibrates the unknowing down to grains of sand.
The weights of just finding the spaced out views, the hard inclines that dig deep inside your mind. Kind of welcomed to gain entrance to the harsh reality that keeps tipping you over. Indeed it is melancholy at its best. Yet the finest line of dreams, hopes treading softly on that of reality. Interesting just how close the do become one another.
They truly erase all the harshness and bitterness in the world. In truth they actually erase it.
Kindness in the steps I take just to grab hold of something so surreal. Oh can it be touched? Lightly over time and decades? Breathing. Inhaling the hopes. Exhaling all the negativity. Reality is my ideal. Yet it seems so untouchable with these dreams. They are like walking in a field of memories, all illusions.
Perhaps this time, history will be kind. I will recall while the lessons are freshly plated. So carefully, I tried to be, to pick and pull at their centers to enhance the true meaning. Yet their radiance thrives inside my mind and deep within my spirit.
A tender moment. Yes. Recalling how much crazy stories and hazing began. Yet nothing falls from the memories of your name, your face. Oh not even the day I was ripped to pieces. I was entertained to that last second. Damaging but I was there, clinging.
I find it interesting how high the hints were and how low the digging into my heart was. Yet all I can think about was the day before. So crisply. The air tight. I gave myself one last hug and died. Such a clear haze.
One single drop of hope began to tinker inside of me. The fight for the distant dreams. The sunlight craved for my smile once more. I had to let it come. So I defined the lines I was expressing. Strengthened myself with keen knowledge of all things considered. There I laid my head. The reality slaughtered my heart. Created weakness and sickness. Even began to allow misunderstanding and hate to roll inside.
Then the vulnerability escaped. I cried. I tossed. I was so livid that I even wondered if I could ever surpass this. Then when the emotions inside of me were so sensitive I began to be that cold stone glass. Still fragile but iced, thick. Nothing I could say would be heard by you. I could no longer explain. I began to say nothing. Just hold onto my dreams, even in the reality of harshness.
Imperfect we all are. Still we are all vying for the attention.
Standing so far out, looking from rooftop to the next down to ground zero. All we hold down in our spirits is the unleashed craziness. Yet that doesn't define the identity we are. We are more calm that you hold to believe. Not destroyed at all. Just saddened by the disturbances echoing inside others, even ourselves.
Sensibly we appear to hold our ground. The rulings of the kindness that has been given in front of us. We want to thrive, thirsty against the damaging, destroying world. We want the strength to know how to press forward against the brick wall pounding us daily.
Oh how I wanted to stand with you today. I wanted to help build you stronger. I wanted to give you my all but instead all I can do is be silent. Scream my frustrations to the webbed pages.
Certainly I was a free bird today yet if you had looked you would have noticed a dumbfounded collection of emotions settling across freckles and sending mere chills down my last throbbing nerve. Yet you didn't. All that could be had was to move a different direction. I have to expect that. I understand that too.
Now I just explore the open ways of truly expressing myself. I have learned there is no better way than that, but through my words. I can never ask anyone to love nor understand the depth of a poem to me. Yet I can hope that my dreams are reality in some phases of life.
To you all it is, is a gift of friendship. Distance. All that can be given. A pure dream I have. No longer angry nor sad by the severed lines. Just forgiving and hopeful. A mere completion of understanding the reality. We are all imperfect and our words, voices and actions should be taken lightly for no one really knows the intentions and outcomes of a day.
I am grateful for my gift. I was grateful of the answers I gained today. And even more so was the prospect that surprises can be had. Yet I know not to ever expect them. I am grateful of a once friendship. Those that were crazy, fun and wild. Yes gone but still breathing, this friendship.
It has been productive in all its courses. Save one. Who knows what the future brings. One breaking dawn to the next. Dreams can be reality. Indeed.
The weights of just finding the spaced out views, the hard inclines that dig deep inside your mind. Kind of welcomed to gain entrance to the harsh reality that keeps tipping you over. Indeed it is melancholy at its best. Yet the finest line of dreams, hopes treading softly on that of reality. Interesting just how close the do become one another.
They truly erase all the harshness and bitterness in the world. In truth they actually erase it.
Kindness in the steps I take just to grab hold of something so surreal. Oh can it be touched? Lightly over time and decades? Breathing. Inhaling the hopes. Exhaling all the negativity. Reality is my ideal. Yet it seems so untouchable with these dreams. They are like walking in a field of memories, all illusions.
Perhaps this time, history will be kind. I will recall while the lessons are freshly plated. So carefully, I tried to be, to pick and pull at their centers to enhance the true meaning. Yet their radiance thrives inside my mind and deep within my spirit.
A tender moment. Yes. Recalling how much crazy stories and hazing began. Yet nothing falls from the memories of your name, your face. Oh not even the day I was ripped to pieces. I was entertained to that last second. Damaging but I was there, clinging.
I find it interesting how high the hints were and how low the digging into my heart was. Yet all I can think about was the day before. So crisply. The air tight. I gave myself one last hug and died. Such a clear haze.
One single drop of hope began to tinker inside of me. The fight for the distant dreams. The sunlight craved for my smile once more. I had to let it come. So I defined the lines I was expressing. Strengthened myself with keen knowledge of all things considered. There I laid my head. The reality slaughtered my heart. Created weakness and sickness. Even began to allow misunderstanding and hate to roll inside.
Then the vulnerability escaped. I cried. I tossed. I was so livid that I even wondered if I could ever surpass this. Then when the emotions inside of me were so sensitive I began to be that cold stone glass. Still fragile but iced, thick. Nothing I could say would be heard by you. I could no longer explain. I began to say nothing. Just hold onto my dreams, even in the reality of harshness.
Imperfect we all are. Still we are all vying for the attention.
Standing so far out, looking from rooftop to the next down to ground zero. All we hold down in our spirits is the unleashed craziness. Yet that doesn't define the identity we are. We are more calm that you hold to believe. Not destroyed at all. Just saddened by the disturbances echoing inside others, even ourselves.
Sensibly we appear to hold our ground. The rulings of the kindness that has been given in front of us. We want to thrive, thirsty against the damaging, destroying world. We want the strength to know how to press forward against the brick wall pounding us daily.
Oh how I wanted to stand with you today. I wanted to help build you stronger. I wanted to give you my all but instead all I can do is be silent. Scream my frustrations to the webbed pages.
Certainly I was a free bird today yet if you had looked you would have noticed a dumbfounded collection of emotions settling across freckles and sending mere chills down my last throbbing nerve. Yet you didn't. All that could be had was to move a different direction. I have to expect that. I understand that too.
Now I just explore the open ways of truly expressing myself. I have learned there is no better way than that, but through my words. I can never ask anyone to love nor understand the depth of a poem to me. Yet I can hope that my dreams are reality in some phases of life.
To you all it is, is a gift of friendship. Distance. All that can be given. A pure dream I have. No longer angry nor sad by the severed lines. Just forgiving and hopeful. A mere completion of understanding the reality. We are all imperfect and our words, voices and actions should be taken lightly for no one really knows the intentions and outcomes of a day.
I am grateful for my gift. I was grateful of the answers I gained today. And even more so was the prospect that surprises can be had. Yet I know not to ever expect them. I am grateful of a once friendship. Those that were crazy, fun and wild. Yes gone but still breathing, this friendship.
It has been productive in all its courses. Save one. Who knows what the future brings. One breaking dawn to the next. Dreams can be reality. Indeed.
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