Everyone’s a little broke at our age. Our parents told us that when we fall apart we have to put ourselves back together, what they didn’t say is that there’s always someone else holding the last piece. They said we’d get lost and looking for hand to hold, they didn’t say that we could get lost in holding a hand. And when we asked them what love was, we never understood what they meant when they looked at us and said “this”. Because some things you can’t explain, and some things are left for the child to find out on their own.
When tides crash and heavens fall,
Wake me up.
When lines are drawn and enemies made,
Don’t cast the stone, wake me up.
Wake me up when your heart is caving in,
When everything you hold close is wearing thin.
Though dreams may be sweet
And time asleep leaves me at peace,
Wake me up when you need me.
I’m picking up the pieces, to piece together this puzzle.
I try to catch my heartbeat, but all I hear is a rustle.
You see, it’s been two moons since I’ve been alive.
Lovers passed and days gone by,
Careless attempts and less cared for goodbyes,
In the end, I can’t really say I’ve tried.
I’ve been left of right, holding on to more,
Caught spinning around, in a revolving door.
Spent my life waiting on this to open,
I take the chance, but the doors, they’re always closing.
Left of right for far too long,
They were right to have left me here wanting more.
Winter’s warning brings anew the year,
The season’s they pass, so do not come to fear,
For when you wake up tomorrow, tomorrow will still be here.
I think I lay more faith in what good there is in the world than I do an all-powerful deity. I’m pretty sure I treat the Bible as more of a quote book with things that I agree and disagree with.
Living in a world that claims it follows the teaching of a God as it simultaneously acts as if the same tenets they follow also have the ability to be warped and skewed to the followers own perception of things has really dulled my ability to grasp this idea of “following” a higher being.
These same people draw the line between good and bad, wise and unwise, between believing and not believing.
I guess I just fail to understand how one’s ability to read or listen to scripture has anything to do with the kind of person they are, especially when the people who actually do so can’t even do that right.
Not saying I don’t believe in God, I just don’t believe in a vast majority of the people that follow him.
I often feel as if there is no meaning to life other than living. That there is no greater thing in this world than to live your own life to whatever you deem the fullest.
But is that it?
The meaning of my own life, the actions I decide to take and the ones I throw aside, doesn’t just affect me. It sets into action a chain of events, multiple stories altered, peoples lives changed just because I decided to turn left on my way to work tonight.
And if I had turned right?
We will never know what our actions entail, nor can we predict the resounding echo it will make. If it is an echo, will it’s final tone end its reverberations upon our body? Does everything come full circle or do we live in a narrow minded world where our actions are no causation to that of others, just a parallel string of events that were always meant to happen.
What of it then?
I’d like my drop in the water, my tone in this world to spread thin and never end rather than minding its own to having an end.
Some are leaving, some are going
Some are trying, some been snowed in
I don’t know when, and I don’t why
But I’ll try
Yes I’ll try
Turn the page, catch the story
You liked to live, but it got boring
You know where you’ve been
And you know where your going
So you’ll try
Yes you’ll try
You’ll walk along
You’ll sing your song
And in the end, you’ll have known it all along
You know you’ve tried
You won’t ask why.
If the sky would fall tomorrow
Would it wash away the sorrow
Of the seconds gleaming under midnight waters
And moons last glance as night slowly falters
Would the sun rise to bring forth the light
Or would the clouds block the ray and set all to blight
Mark my words, my child, in the end it’s alright
Because in the end it’s all done, but don’t lose that sight
Second chances glow like fireflies in the night
Catch one or twenty and let them guide you home
Reach and stumble with all your might
It’s chance and you’re not alone.
She whispered into my ear, “How do you do it?”
“How do I do what?”
She leaned back and looked me in the eyes, “How do you make the rain, drought, pain, and sorrow all mean nothing to you? You take the smallest things and make them grand as if by some conjurer’s will”
I looked down and thought to myself. Was it the sun breaking through the clouds after a full days rain, or maybe the fulls days rain after a drought, the burst of laughter after a moment of pain, or that light at the end of sorrow that makes everything right again?
I looked up and whispered, “You.”
Gathered sun and washing rains
Tempered flares for temporary gains
Make rumored lives and childish lies
Worth a spec of sand to the deserts eyes
Run the land and wipe the brow
Set the sail and push the plow
Seasons end in brief content
As waves corrupt the beaches intent
Row and row the seasoned oars
And push through water to another shore
At days end, to dusk we go
We settle fast, and vastly grow.