Wrapping space tightly around the little life that’s left, shutting out the laughter and joy of other people’s lives.
Turning in upon a world of sorrow left alone to ponder why.
Sifting through old memories – never with a friend – staring across a bridge that will soon be burned to the ground, allowing no one else to follow into your own little world.
Building bridges don’t exist here anymore.
Beautiful to behold, touching my soul sogently, tenderly with hope, that I feelI’m being blessed right now by God.
Giving an inheritance of emptiness to carry forward into theirchildren’s futures.
and listening tothe quietness of mysoul.
Living beyond their means as often as they are able, yet you continue to be poor.
leading them all into a land of imaginary beauty.Pulling from voices strung out into the atmosphereand allowing tones to match up with rhythms, takingus along wide rivers, watching as white foam flowsin front of us towards rapids of interior music.Not letting go of any of the treasures, just holdingthem wisely in intellect where they will…
