Strange, is the idea of home.
The warmth of welcome fades into mere acquaintance.
The passage of time dilutes the empathy felt as ties unwind...
Memories, although apparent and strong
shed light on pretense obligation to personal attachment
Yet each passing moment holds potential,
like the lines of a shadow, to shift from dream to reality
The pages of our lives bled dry by the weight of our misfortunes
and re-ignited by that life as transgressions fade and accomplishments take over
These are the times to cherish
These are the times I crave
Tolerable, is the passage of time
Painful and appealing
Exciting and easy
Regretful of the past failed attempts at happiness
Mournful of the easily achieved moments of sadness
Strange is life, blissfully miserable...
THERE WILL BE BIRDS SONGS ABOVE THE FLOODED BEACH
WE WILL BE DAYLIGHT ABOVE THE SHIPWRECKED SAND…
"..I find myself stirred awake by the ambient noises of the world outside and a realization that my train of thought may not be running on time…but I've nowhere to be...except here."