A broken down sound
In another world. Things would have been different. Things that could have been, or should have been, would have been. In another time, in another place, I would have been able to be the person I always wanted to be. The soul of me, would have been the colour I believed it should have been.
A hung head and a heavy heart. The everyday "going-ons" and the rapid pace life expands by leave me at the beginning of infinity, and pretty much at the end as well. I've grown, I've changed, I've evolved, and am somehow lost. Everything changes. The truth is. Heartbreaking truth.
Nothing is forever lost. Pertaining to matters such as the heart, the will to live, the elan of a human being, the fortitude, the strength, and the weight. As the ball and chain of society drags you down, a collar about the neck, breaking you in. It is almost easy to forget that we are people. It is easy to forget that we are made in an image. It is easy to forget that our lives are older than the stones, our ideals are older than the world, and our soul is older than the universe.
Life is a revolution. Life is a fight. Life is a struggle. Life began when everything began, and will end when everything ends. For it is not just written, but conceived. I'm alive in 85, but I've lived longer than that. I'm alive within the music. Within the beauty and splendor of the space that surrounds. I am a citizen of existence. I am...
Does sadness surround a dying star? Collapsing around itself, drawing in the universe around it? Does the density at its core mean anything? Does something so bright and brilliant so far away mean anything? Does anything anything mean anything. Not just anymore, but anyway.
Me, my room, the apartment, the neighbourhood, the country, the vast oceans, the planet, the spaces in between, the other planets, the universe, the multiverse, the vast space. Its easy to be lost when you realise how much space there is to set a destination to, yet so little time to get there. It's the Journey - just the travels, and whatever destination this battered body will take me to.
So much to say and so little words, and life, in itself is bigger than the vastness of existence. Death to death, I want to be set free.
A hung head and a heavy heart. The everyday "going-ons" and the rapid pace life expands by leave me at the beginning of infinity, and pretty much at the end as well. I've grown, I've changed, I've evolved, and am somehow lost. Everything changes. The truth is. Heartbreaking truth.
Nothing is forever lost. Pertaining to matters such as the heart, the will to live, the elan of a human being, the fortitude, the strength, and the weight. As the ball and chain of society drags you down, a collar about the neck, breaking you in. It is almost easy to forget that we are people. It is easy to forget that we are made in an image. It is easy to forget that our lives are older than the stones, our ideals are older than the world, and our soul is older than the universe.
Life is a revolution. Life is a fight. Life is a struggle. Life began when everything began, and will end when everything ends. For it is not just written, but conceived. I'm alive in 85, but I've lived longer than that. I'm alive within the music. Within the beauty and splendor of the space that surrounds. I am a citizen of existence. I am...
Does sadness surround a dying star? Collapsing around itself, drawing in the universe around it? Does the density at its core mean anything? Does something so bright and brilliant so far away mean anything? Does anything anything mean anything. Not just anymore, but anyway.
Me, my room, the apartment, the neighbourhood, the country, the vast oceans, the planet, the spaces in between, the other planets, the universe, the multiverse, the vast space. Its easy to be lost when you realise how much space there is to set a destination to, yet so little time to get there. It's the Journey - just the travels, and whatever destination this battered body will take me to.
So much to say and so little words, and life, in itself is bigger than the vastness of existence. Death to death, I want to be set free.
Labels: a tear in the page
posted by Seython at 1:40 am
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