The glance before good bye,
The falter before the fall,
The doubt before decision,
The reason before revenge.
Life is not lived in the deed,
But it’s thought.
The prize may rest in the destination,
But the lessons are learned in it’s path.
The words our souls bleed, bandaged every day. For the world would be too quick to judge anything you had to say. It’s a free world, without freedom of expression or thought. And a life that rhymes with irony more often than not.
A thought, that’s all it was.
Away it hid as soon as it came alive.
Every now and then you could see it, a frail silhouette in the dark.
Stealing glances out into an unknown spark.
Sometimes asking me, begging you, for a few words;
Words to set it free.
Words to wear so from the heart it can flee.
Making it out through the lips and into the wind with glee.
A mere feeling, that’s all it was.
Like the warmth of the sun or the chill of the rain.
An unspoken emotion, neither joy nor pain.
Simply reminding me, I exist;
Voyaging through new, lonely paths with moments of sunshine and mist.