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Visions blurred and thoughts without. Devoid of rhyme or rhythm, these dreams come and go, unknown what they mean, or what they've come to show. I carry them like a dictionary for future reference, afraid that soon they'll be past tense and the moment of clarity will have come and past, with it goes the promise - this life is my last. But then at times, I feel quite narrow, as if there is more of life's marrow. More things to see and less to settle with, not to be some john doe or jane smith. When I go, who'll remember me? Will my visions be passed for others to see? These questions I ask are from my heart With which my mind and soul will part, and enter a new world, asking again still searching for the reason that lies within. Will many gather around my grave, seeing such tragedy that they could have saved, passing their sorrow and fond memories to each other, the wind, the sky and the trees? Will the one I love most be there to see me go or will he hide and be a no show? How many will remember my name? How many will try and take the blame? Will I find out my answers then, just to forget them again? What about the next time around, Will I have the same questioning sound? Will I find my love's soul in someone else and will we make it through what we've been dealt? I know I've wronged many already, Will I pay for that grief, slow and steady, or all at once and with great pain? Will my next life be so damned mundane? I hope not, but yet I have lessons to learn and absolutely no time to burn. |
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