A Journal of Sorts
"when I take a look around me I wonder how the sun's so sure he knows the way and why he doesn't stray and if he spends the day looking for another meaning..." ~ Joe Egan ~ you can slip while skipping stones, you know?... but what does it matter if you don't understand?... I can ask the questions that I find in my obscurity (but then, what is mine) and wonder will anybody ever understand me?... maybe you like the words and can not explain why... or maybe you don't and won't even try... maybe you'll ignore unless confronted and then just lie (what a waste, but fuel anyway)... maybe you're the one caught between hello and goodbye... maybe you're just waiting to die... either way I wish you'd let me know that you've been here, if you were here (are you here?)... if you are... please click here and if you care even a little I wish you'd tell me why I want our lives to matter more than hello and goodbye if you want something more from life than just to live and die then tell me more about yourself and tell me why why you laugh, why you smile, why you cry why you sing, why you dance, why you sigh why you feel what you feel, what you see in your eyes tell me more about yourself, tell me why tell me all about your story, tell me why do you dare care enough to believe that I care enough to want to know?... or are these just words passing by your eyes so fast that they don't register enough meaning to be felt by your heart?... it is your choice, no matter what sort of magic or creativity or genius anyone might present (not to pretend I present magic or genius, but some creativity might trickle through) J and what of it now, shall I skip ahead when there is too little time or should I return to ponder and see what might come of reflection in rhyme?... the child hopes for worth, the ego begs for affirmation, the muse sings alone, the lover cries, the poet dies, the heart lies and says all is fine... no matter what is yours or mine... and a gentle smile is left when the words rhyme... a gentle smile to fill the passing time (but does time actually pass?) J |
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