Mourn Not the Dead
It is said that life is a journey
If that is so
Then there is but one destination
No matter the sidetracks or scenic routes
Road diverges and forks
One choice will take you one way
Others another
But eventually
In the end
All roads lead not to Rome
But to the finish
The end of the highway
The close of the story
The last of the moments
And the finale of the play that is life
It cant be held off
Detoured, or even stopped
Paths may split
Cross and converge
Meeting and dividing
But all steer us in but one direction
Ending in one eminent choice
No
Not a choice
Not a decision or another option
It's funny how a line from a song or a quip someone wrote down in a fit of inspiration can propel people to do things they wouldn't have otherwise. A person's emotions are so fickle and easily malleable yet can withstand the greatest of tortures. And while the mind travels the straight and narrow road of logic, the heart often finds itself lost and broken on a long and twisted path of emotion. Attempting to get these two organs to follow the same lines or at least run along on similar, parallel routes is a hard and unforgiving task and the few who try find themselves alone and tortured by this fact because logic cannot steer emotion and em
Sleep
Slumber creeps softly across the horizon
Wrapping everyone in its silent comfort
Gently closing eyes and slowing breathe
Steadying the heart and numbing the body
It brings dreams of the future and memories of the past
Breaking them apart only to rebuild them once more
Melding and merging them
Into strange memories of the things to come
And dreams of the things that would never be
It is as knowledge to the wise
Courage to the bold
Comfort to the shy
Turning about and whirling around
Colors separate and blend
Visions twist and pull
Drifting in and floating out
Shifting, changing, turning, and switching
Only to be forgott
Waiting,
For the perfect moment.
Waiting,
With endless patience.
Wiating,
Forever waiting for it.
Just the perfect hour,
The perfect minute,
The perfect second,
To grasp life in all its glory.
To feel the flowing rhythm of it.
Waiting,
Endlessly waiting.
Waiting,
For a perfect moment in time,
And hoping it doesn't pass by.
And waiting.
Just waiting,
For something.
I sit her and ponder from my mother's cherry tree
Surprised when the world decides to pass by me
I read of magic and mystery and mice that talk
And watch as others walk down the block
My own little secret 'hidey-hole'
Away from the dull, albeit strange life I call my own
My escape from the watchful eye of my mother
And a dog that's like a little brother
From the incessant naggings of twin younger sisters
And from that which is my frustrated father
Away from the mother on whose shoulder I've cried
And the sisters who made me laugh when my tears had dried
From my father who'd comforted, no questions asked
To the dog who had cuddled
Love is a battlefield of the body
It isn't sweet or sappy or cutesy
It's blind, stupid, and chaotic
Coursing through your body to only
Ravage your heart and tear at your soul
Filling those now empty spaces with
Something scary and unknown
Yet pleasurable, warm, and oddly familiar
It scares the…
Well, it scares you and bolsters you
For what is yet to come
The emotions pounding in your head
Are so loud you go deaf
And explosions go off behind you eyes
So bright you go blind
Your mouth goes dry with fear
And your tongue swells so you can't speak
You're deaf, blind, and so stupid
You'll do anything…
Anything for one touch
One
Love is a battlefield of the body
It isn't sweet or sappy or cutesy
It's blind, stupid, and chaotic
Coursing through your body to only
Ravage your heart and tear at your soul
Filling those now empty spaces with
Something scary and unknown
Yet pleasurable, warm, and oddly familiar
It scares the…
Well, it scares you and bolsters you
For what is yet to come
The emotions pounding in your head
Are so loud you go deaf
And explosions go off behind you eyes
So bright you go blind
Your mouth goes dry with fear
And your tongue swells so you can't speak
You're deaf, blind, and so stupid
You'll do anything…
Anything for one touch
One
I sit her and ponder from my mother's cherry tree
Surprised when the world decides to pass by me
I read of magic and mystery and mice that talk
And watch as others walk down the block
My own little secret 'hidey-hole'
Away from the dull, albeit strange life I call my own
My escape from the watchful eye of my mother
And a dog that's like a little brother
From the incessant naggings of twin younger sisters
And from that which is my frustrated father
Away from the mother on whose shoulder I've cried
And the sisters who made me laugh when my tears had dried
From my father who'd comforted, no questions asked
To the dog who had cuddled
Waiting,
For the perfect moment.
Waiting,
With endless patience.
Wiating,
Forever waiting for it.
Just the perfect hour,
The perfect minute,
The perfect second,
To grasp life in all its glory.
To feel the flowing rhythm of it.
Waiting,
Endlessly waiting.
Waiting,
For a perfect moment in time,
And hoping it doesn't pass by.
And waiting.
Just waiting,
For something.
Sleep
Slumber creeps softly across the horizon
Wrapping everyone in its silent comfort
Gently closing eyes and slowing breathe
Steadying the heart and numbing the body
It brings dreams of the future and memories of the past
Breaking them apart only to rebuild them once more
Melding and merging them
Into strange memories of the things to come
And dreams of the things that would never be
It is as knowledge to the wise
Courage to the bold
Comfort to the shy
Turning about and whirling around
Colors separate and blend
Visions twist and pull
Drifting in and floating out
Shifting, changing, turning, and switching
Only to be forgott
It's funny how a line from a song or a quip someone wrote down in a fit of inspiration can propel people to do things they wouldn't have otherwise. A person's emotions are so fickle and easily malleable yet can withstand the greatest of tortures. And while the mind travels the straight and narrow road of logic, the heart often finds itself lost and broken on a long and twisted path of emotion. Attempting to get these two organs to follow the same lines or at least run along on similar, parallel routes is a hard and unforgiving task and the few who try find themselves alone and tortured by this fact because logic cannot steer emotion and em
Current Residence: BFE Illinois Favourite genre of music: Rock Favourite style of art: Anime Favourite cartoon character: Goofy Personal Quote: I am nobody, nobody is perfect; therefore, I am perfect
I was checking out my deviants and my now ex-roomy pointed out my journal...and how I haven't really written anything.
I'm obviously not living with her anymore. Haven't lived with her since February. Instead, I work with her. Wouldn't be so bad if we didn't work in the same department.
Living back at home again is kinda depressing. Especially since one of my sisters got my room after I moved out the first time. I'm out in the garage.
I'm adamant about getting a degree and getting out of here. And I will...it's just gonna take a while.
I was checking out my deviants and my now ex-roomy pointed out my journal...and how I haven't really written anything.
I'm obviously not living with her anymore. Haven't lived with her since February. Instead, I work with her. Wouldn't be so bad if we didn't work in the same department.
Living back at home again is kinda depressing. Especially since one of my sisters got my room after I moved out the first time. I'm out in the garage.
I'm adamant about getting a degree and getting out of here. And I will...it's just gonna take a while.
I think I'm officially moved into my apartment now. I've been living with my roomy for about three months now and all my stuff is finally unpacked.
Hers though is another story.