At Riverland Community College,
the skylight for chancelike thought.
For emptiness is nothingness
and nothingness is innocence
and innocence is honesty
and honesty is real.
It is a long journey, no doubt
to find reality in a world of darkness
by means of the so brightly shining light
which we are often blinded to
by our own lust and fear and pride.
Yet, I wrote this.
It is strange perhaps
to some it means nothing
and everything to another
To me, it is both
for I am neither its reader nor creator
I am merely the hand which held the tapestry for another's stroke
I cannot take credit for this piece
I must admit to you that other than the chords,
I put relatively no effort into writing this
So its words are hardly my own.
It took me less than a minute to write this
my hand raced across the paper to get it all out
But here it is,
whatever it is
my blob of words of ink
which means all or none or something
which is really nothing at all.
Midnight Step
Trailing in along the shore
don't leave, don't turn back
walking down that track
of missing ends of slack
fleeing fast, missing the core
in empty times of day
people leave and people stay
but nobody can pray
where's it going, what's it for?
Running fast and running still
can't seem to go but can't tell what's real
when everything is gone and nobody can feel
when's the time, what's the deal
empty minds, hearts of steel
Millions shedding empty tears
can't afford to brake
or suffer at the stake
of times and fights to make
holding hands of hidden fears
everything's so fake
ribbons bows and drapes
a thousand empty lakes
close your eyes, it re-appears
Running fast and running still
can't seem to go but can't tell what's real
when everything is gone and nobody can feel
when's the time, what's the deal
empty minds, hearts of steel
On they walk in open sand
of moonlight dust and air
to fly without a care
sunshine in my hair
touch the sky and hold my hand
looking here and there
loss is everywhere
don't stop and stare
someone might try to understand
creatures, beasts and lairs
of maidens, clowns and heirs
to sit on wooden chairs
each with nothing ever planned
Running fast and running still
can't seem to go but can't tell what's real
when everything is gone and nobody can feel
when's the time, what's the deal
empty minds, hearts of steel
No comments:
Post a Comment