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KYLEWILSON
As still,
still as the soft echoing voice of reason,
the trees bend with the awkward world of which they've created,
a light reflects upon the subtle witness of such movement,
calming the waves with the warmth of a thousand souls,
expanding outward regaining the third horizon.
She stands,
still as the breathless en devour of confusion,
guided to what she has been awakened for,
with closed eyes the path becomes visible,
with steps not touching the ground,
she moves her shade, crossing her color.
Outside of solitude and within the grasp of fear,
alone she stands strong,
alone she sings.
with every gentle note, the trees unwind.
The last sound of time is the song thats sung inside our mind.
still as the soft echoing voice of reason,
the trees bend with the awkward world of which they've created,
a light reflects upon the subtle witness of such movement,
calming the waves with the warmth of a thousand souls,
expanding outward regaining the third horizon.
She stands,
still as the breathless en devour of confusion,
guided to what she has been awakened for,
with closed eyes the path becomes visible,
with steps not touching the ground,
she moves her shade, crossing her color.
Outside of solitude and within the grasp of fear,
alone she stands strong,
alone she sings.
with every gentle note, the trees unwind.
The last sound of time is the song thats sung inside our mind.
I wish I could be a poet, write something flowing and life altering.
I wish I could be a painter, capture thoughts with color.
I wish I could be a musician, help people get through the day with words.
I wish I could be a photographer, capture memories otherwise forgotten.
I wish I could be a linguist, say the right thing to everyone.
I wish I could be a historian, know the dates and names.
I wish I could be a seamstress, make every woman feel good.
I wish I could be a painter, capture thoughts with color.
I wish I could be a musician, help people get through the day with words.
I wish I could be a photographer, capture memories otherwise forgotten.
I wish I could be a linguist, say the right thing to everyone.
I wish I could be a historian, know the dates and names.
I wish I could be a seamstress, make every woman feel good.
Life's a cigarette
If you have ever smoked a cigarette you know the best part is the last part. The last forty or so seconds, where those last desperate drags suck up into oblivion and the air becomes winter thin in your throat, and the last embers finally fall out and extinguish themselves in the most secretive of ways. No final blaze, just a slow burn. That's what life is like. How we act our parts is up to us, for like a cigarette, there are two certain things. There will be fascination with the beginning of the burn, and the end of the burn. How we fill the middle is up to us.
If you have ever smoked a cigarette you know the best part is the last part. The last forty or so seconds, where those last desperate drags suck up into oblivion and the air becomes winter thin in your throat, and the last embers finally fall out and extinguish themselves in the most secretive of ways. No final blaze, just a slow burn. That's what life is like. How we act our parts is up to us, for like a cigarette, there are two certain things. There will be fascination with the beginning of the burn, and the end of the burn. How we fill the middle is up to us.
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