Maybe on a ship telling a story
Or killing a mockingbird, or
Suffering a trial.
The testaments betrayed,
The heart of darkness swayed,
Flowers for some white mouse.
The awakening is always pure,
A clensing of the finer senses.
A little tinge in the third eye.
He always knew it would happen to him,
Just didn't know the time.
Who ever knows the time as we space?
It was thick but not foggy,
The presence of his Conscious Light
Worth spreading, worth juggling about.
But as time spaced him out
Fear and darkness seeped
Through the creases the fin
Of a shark could be seen.
He picked up a dead rose on the sidewalk.
He discovered new bones in his body every day
Like pockets for angel wings
That shone in absence.
He walked under ladders and
Slipped in the mud
And began to be sure that some freak accident
Was just around the corner
The cars seemed to leer with their
Spotlight eyes at him
And so he went inside and forgot
All about the Light
And he remembered the flaws and the
Downward spirals of night's mare.
Don't try to reach the top, we aren't
Swimming in no body of water.
Whatever goes down will not rise to float again.
Whatever goes up must go down.
And that's the gravity of the situation.
6 abr 2011
Suscribirse a:
Enviar comentarios (Atom)
No hay comentarios:
Publicar un comentario