I stare at the blankness of the chaos around me As a breather from the chaos within Will it still be called chaos when the answer's there Already but it's covered by transparent layers? In five cycles of the minute hand, I will be reborn Will I face the answer then? Or, Will I continue to wear out myself In weighing the choices I have? Options can sometimes be a curse, As difficult as when there are none But what is there to learn Than to be a decisive one? I stared at the blankness now within me The chaos has blurred underneath And blackness has wrapped my wholeness Paralyzing me in this moment My lips are sealed, tongue tucked in my throat "I flit, I float..." and so the song goes... The skies are heavy but the rains do not come (Originally posted at my blog: thesilentjournalist.blogspot.com) |
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ScribblesThere's no use in trying to deny one's roots and true self. Here are snippets of one whose past time involves thinking and analyzing people, events, places, and many other things. Archives
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