A Journal of Sorts
I write for you I write for me I write for posterity maybe posterity will respond before I reach the great beyond days pass unnoticed... moving around... lost in the darkness... nary a sound... it is no wonder... nobody's found... where are you?... what if you where here would you understand do you think you'd know the differences between what is real and what I create with my hand what if you were here would you be more than words would you sense more of the references between the lines you read and the words you have heard could we begin to cross the barriers that keep people apart could we share the thoughts deep in our minds and the feelings deep in our hearts what if you were here would you open wide would we sit here staring into space or touch each other where it matters... on the inside would you need to pretend we are falling in love to trust enough to share the truth we feel would you need to believe we are falling in love to trust enough to share being real what if you were here would you understand do you think you'd know what to do with your heart or your mind or your hand a lot of wandering introspection lately, huh?... well, a lot of alone time... it's been years since anybody wandering deep into my gardens (or me, for that matter) to explore and share (no less show some interest)... and while I wander through these lonely days, you guys out there are long distance lifelines reminding me that there are people who do care and find something (at least through words) worth exploring in me (besides me I mean)... have I thanked you lately? J |
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