I want you to let go, completely while reading this.
Do you feel it, me?
I'm going to grab you.
YANK. You.
Pull. You.
In the gut, the muscle gut,
I splinter thin tinder,
Grabbing your pain,
I'll swipe your sins,
And view your gain.
Listen to this, this final run;
I've seen the end, its full of fun, we can neither change, nor destroy it, infact, in time you will learn the secret. We are just a plane, a string in fact, set upon the back of God, the operator's gun. We contrive in this place, reason and logic abound, yet when asking simple questions, paradoxes around. We try to cope, with the fear, that lonliness we've seen. Its just a myth, uneven bliss, blinding by our sound. Our lives are played out as if cards, thinking there's a strategy, fortunately or poorly unfortunate, we can only see wrong. You and I, we're one in the same, our strings share few knots. I hope you're seeing where I'm going, and not getting lost. To see time, as the bird's eye view, is simple and true. However the chemistry simply forbids, forbids us from this too. A neuron here, will send in air, that sweet humming that we conceive. The consciousness, the perceptive view, the simply far-fetched untrue. We're tricked and turned, and eventually we learn, may it be the end, but we do. We see the line, the plane, the string, and undress all the fool.
Life is grand, but life is sick, it's laughter is dark. It's compassion is beyond warmth, however it is thick. Hard to achieve, yet hard to escape, euphoria wins out - let it be known, it is your own, the way you see the route. Happiness is the path, not the distination, the wise man once said. The wisest follow their own words, and take to early bed.
I'll let you label myself as open, or simply forget your name. I'd like that you let go, speak from the get-go, and tame your outrageous game. Up and down, turn it around, we're here for you, and I. Speak for yourself, you've taken my words, and reflected them in my eye.
"So why then, has all my life made no sound?"