punktuality
Bluelighter
**********
We don't know all the answers, from the skies to the grass,
Of beginnings gone past, and of what will come last.
See, we make up these tales of grandeurs and strifes,
To fill in the holes in our everyday lives.
A winged fairy as a thought or a dream, that is fine,
In a magic filled garden it must seem so divine,
But I know they aren't real and neither are elves,
But the garden has beauty... all by itself.
Now a god or a deity takes the tale up a notch,
And with such an idea we must take care and watch,
That we don't loose control and let the story tell us,
To make others believe or to make too much fuss.
Because when stories of things do start to become real,
Of raging thunder, of prophets, and those of a last meal,
The friction of truth then causes tension and hate,
Even death... these stories create.
And while stories can help us, to relate and to heal,
They are only an expression of what we do feel,
A great outlet for us to connect to the unknown,
To hide the thought that we are alone.
But we know we are not alone because as you read this
You will hopefully be filled with feelings of bliss.
Or if not with bliss then I at least hope you agree
That only with truth... we can be free.
And I realise the irony of expressing through verse,
My wishes for people to lift off this curse,
Lift of the jaded thoughts of the dead,
Please just use, your own little head.
Because we all feel of love, of warmth, sorrow and pain,
We all feel of these things over again and again,
But I'm much more content knowing that I am the one,
To know my own life, to be having this fun.
The only place we all know is the place in our minds,
Thats where it happens, these things of all kinds,
Why need a story? To explain how you be?
I am just happy... believing in me.
********
------
It seems like forever since I last posted here, I think since I last posted (if anyone here even remembers me) I have changed a lot as a person and I think that shows in my thoughts if not in my witting skills.
------
We don't know all the answers, from the skies to the grass,
Of beginnings gone past, and of what will come last.
See, we make up these tales of grandeurs and strifes,
To fill in the holes in our everyday lives.
A winged fairy as a thought or a dream, that is fine,
In a magic filled garden it must seem so divine,
But I know they aren't real and neither are elves,
But the garden has beauty... all by itself.
Now a god or a deity takes the tale up a notch,
And with such an idea we must take care and watch,
That we don't loose control and let the story tell us,
To make others believe or to make too much fuss.
Because when stories of things do start to become real,
Of raging thunder, of prophets, and those of a last meal,
The friction of truth then causes tension and hate,
Even death... these stories create.
And while stories can help us, to relate and to heal,
They are only an expression of what we do feel,
A great outlet for us to connect to the unknown,
To hide the thought that we are alone.
But we know we are not alone because as you read this
You will hopefully be filled with feelings of bliss.
Or if not with bliss then I at least hope you agree
That only with truth... we can be free.
And I realise the irony of expressing through verse,
My wishes for people to lift off this curse,
Lift of the jaded thoughts of the dead,
Please just use, your own little head.
Because we all feel of love, of warmth, sorrow and pain,
We all feel of these things over again and again,
But I'm much more content knowing that I am the one,
To know my own life, to be having this fun.
The only place we all know is the place in our minds,
Thats where it happens, these things of all kinds,
Why need a story? To explain how you be?
I am just happy... believing in me.
********
------
It seems like forever since I last posted here, I think since I last posted (if anyone here even remembers me) I have changed a lot as a person and I think that shows in my thoughts if not in my witting skills.
------
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