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The Turmoil Of The UnknownQuestions.
Lots of Questions.
But no Answers.
In my Head,
Thoughts keep Buzzing,
I see Him
Look at Me.
I don't Know
What he Sees.
Want to Know
If he Sees
Who I Am
Not my Face
Hope he Dreams
Like I Dream.
Dream of Him.
Him and Me.
Have a Heart.
I want His.
Want his Heart
For my Own.
Sidewalk SongSome treat life like a cash crop
I'm still kinda growing
The tailor stole the farmer's wife
Both men keep on sewing/sowing
If you meet me along the creek
I bet we'll catch some fish to eat
Unless Spring steals my bait
They make pipes from bamboo in Babylon
Prelude In ThirdYes. She heard them.
The wind chimes.
Ting ching ta-ching ching chingle ting ta-ling chingle .
Eyes closed, lips smiling.
Yearning for the wind to bow on the grass.
Waiting for the mellow sunlight to spin
And whisper on the glass and the dew.
She was just listening;
Listening with her mind,
Her ears, her heart.
She was listening for the music.
Oh! It was there!
The brook was trickling somewhere to her left,
Standing as the moving melody.
Plittle plittle ching! Cha-ching plittle-little ting! Lickle-ling pling ching!
The musical laugh sang,
Giggling at the beauty of the dawn,
Chuckling at the mist as the air floated serenely.
Somewhere a bird descanted in rapture,
And another creature trumpeted its waking.
She felt the earth thrumming like
A deep, soft bass, smooth and calm.
They all moved together in time,
As she moved her hands in each direction,
Guiding the song of the morning.
Nature was her symphony and music was her purpose.
It was the only thing
I Cried To GodHere I go again. *sigh*
Why am I doing this again? That's a stupid question; I know why. But I just can't believe that it'll happen.
I know, I know, every time I think "it could never be," you tell me "oh ye of little faith."
But these are the hearts of men. REAL MEN. I can't simply write them off and feel content with how I imagine their stories. I don't know how things will end or tie together. Yes, I know you do, and I don't know what I'm afraid of when you keep telling me you know what should happen. But already?
I know I lost what I had, but I still have some sentiment, some feelings left. I've already done the whole 'swing on the stars for two weeks and then drop a bomb' routine.
I slaved over my true feelings for years and got my heart broken. I knew my heart would be broken too, because I didn't deserve what I wanted. Not then, and I don't even believe I deserve it now. Why are you telling me to go back and try again? You've given me all the nudges and signs and clues. I though
Red Riding HoodI want to believe people so badly when they say they won’t bite
that I contemplate climbing into their smiling jaws
thinking that it might be better to be split in two than left hanging.
But always, I draw my red hood and flit back into the forest
running in the shadows of pathways, never stepping into clearings
because I’ve spent my whole life in the wilderness
and I still can’t tell the wolves from the woodsmen.
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