Nights blackened with soot of ages past, burned to cinders
and dust, blown throughout the dusk of life.
Begun again on other dimensions that we know nothing of,
calling out for truth and honesty of a past no longer
remembered, because the final dirge has been played and put
to sleep.
Ones that I own and can be transported through time’s space planting them in a poem.
Delicately folding all matter into many albums, treasured interiorly forever.
To be able to do such simple and ordinary things and in the simplicity of it all to find a meaning for our lives.
There aren’t any shortcuts or roundabout ways to live life,for I must experience every second of it.Happy or depressed – joyful or sorrowful – all must be apart of my existence.Never leaving any moments behind, my mind subconsciouslyabsorbs every particle of information and data to be usedone day in poetry or written words.Passed on to…
Thoughtful recall of energetic sounds, carefully growing into different directions of exacting mathematical calculations.
