Mode
In this odd mode where life seems to be in motion but the mind is reeling backwards to the music of Brahms lullaby. Why though does the force of a wind storm plummet against me inside my lungs? Why do the very words I think of crash against the walls of my brain?
Oh how does one stay calm in moments such as these? I carefully wander over to the side of the room, just humming to myself. Low, slow and soothing. Perhaps too much concern is settling inside of me. Perhaps too many theories are weighing down the memories and the soul is exhausted.
Yet my spirit core is flying high. No drowning is noticed nor is there darkness seated within. How though is the mind capable of being this wired but still cracking with every motion?
Oh how does that even allow any part of the day to be unclear? How would the eyes blink closed if they were already glued shut? Such curiosity entertains a memory. A sharp inhale as the night concludes the darkness and the stars open the daylight.
Indeed the parts of me are wounded but still quite unwavering. I do not shiver in the cold dusky morn. I do not look for the negativity. I only leap forward into a taken stance. This tiny glimmer of hope that unfolds this grand manifestation.
Yet what taste do I have for the revelation? Ah now that is the true question. The moment that stood tall through the inquisition. Is there really a taste or is it more the effort of knowledge and wisdom that protects me?
Oh how the oddity that rolls throughout a soul and could divide a spirit in two. A sword that shows truth and lie. Indeed those mindful demands are what causes this redhead to stay awake contemplating life's biggest picture, momentarily, hours upon end.
How does one even let go? Sleep?
Skeptical for seconds down to full black outs. Then the rain awakens the mind. Now I just lay my head back, close my eyes and type. None to make much sense but words and phrases to find meaning. Depth. Understanding.
Do you understand this type of mode?
Oh how does one stay calm in moments such as these? I carefully wander over to the side of the room, just humming to myself. Low, slow and soothing. Perhaps too much concern is settling inside of me. Perhaps too many theories are weighing down the memories and the soul is exhausted.
Yet my spirit core is flying high. No drowning is noticed nor is there darkness seated within. How though is the mind capable of being this wired but still cracking with every motion?
Oh how does that even allow any part of the day to be unclear? How would the eyes blink closed if they were already glued shut? Such curiosity entertains a memory. A sharp inhale as the night concludes the darkness and the stars open the daylight.
Indeed the parts of me are wounded but still quite unwavering. I do not shiver in the cold dusky morn. I do not look for the negativity. I only leap forward into a taken stance. This tiny glimmer of hope that unfolds this grand manifestation.
Yet what taste do I have for the revelation? Ah now that is the true question. The moment that stood tall through the inquisition. Is there really a taste or is it more the effort of knowledge and wisdom that protects me?
Oh how the oddity that rolls throughout a soul and could divide a spirit in two. A sword that shows truth and lie. Indeed those mindful demands are what causes this redhead to stay awake contemplating life's biggest picture, momentarily, hours upon end.
How does one even let go? Sleep?
Skeptical for seconds down to full black outs. Then the rain awakens the mind. Now I just lay my head back, close my eyes and type. None to make much sense but words and phrases to find meaning. Depth. Understanding.
Do you understand this type of mode?
Comments
Post a Comment