Can you hear them?

How could one understand my words? Make sense of the ramblings which flood my head and spill onto these pages in chaos. They are everywhere, connections, fragments, meaningless words which form songs which sing in tunes and harmonies that I choose to ignore. Until the sounds become to loud.

 

Here they are flowing as a river. Not raging, nor tranquil. They are littered.

Here they sing as a breeze. Not gentle, nor harsh. They simply drift, and still they make no matter, no matter how I choose to ignore, or create, they are and always will be here. A blessing, which I shun, and with that is my punishment.

 

Worthless

I know.

How can one understand my words? I guess they make sense to me.

Can you hear them?

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Hidden words

OLD

YOUNG

Your hand

My heart

I am alone

Just

Pretty

I hope you see

Come together

Know

Open paths

Right away

Faded away

Gave up

Forgotten

Wanted

Neglected

I hope you see

One day

Tears

Wander

Cry

Kneel

Shame

Struggle

Mercy

 

Please

Please

Please

Words woven together with no apparent meaning

That have all the meaning in the world

Finding the words we want to say

when we carry on

Don’t forget

What it is you mean to say

before Time is gone

 

I’m on the edge

waiting for my heart to break

No one knows

How much my soul can take

Story Teller

The world awaits a new tale… filled with wonderment and life… visions and strife… the world awaits a new hero, a new world, a new time… every second one is born, another one dies.

I sit and read tales told through countless lifetimes. I fly through my mind. As I read the words they lose their shape and become landscapes of thought.
The story teller paints on the canvas of veiled sight. Whispering thoughts and watching them blossom. Watching them flow on the river of words until abstract becomes understood and understanding becomes reason for the listener. They tell yet always see in plain sight.

 

I sit and listen to the voice of the teller. Hearing the words and entering their minds. I fly.

 

Turning I see them. I hear the words they spoke as they wrote and they dreamed.

 

I saw them fly.

Eternal be the words, eternal be the thoughts, they remain for eternity. Infinitely flowing through minds. They live forever as others die.

Words. Thoughts. Voices. Memories. Dreams. Visions. Emotions. Created. Destroyed. Transformed. Interpreted. Saved. Deleted.

The voice of the story teller lives and is spoken through time.

As they whisper you can hear their true voice

As you listen you can see them fly

 

Turn and hear me.

See me. Telling you a tale.

Can you see me fly?

My words

Why must these words continue to come? I read them, write them, feel them… yet I am far from them.

Why must then they torment me? For so long they gave me shelter, for so long they gave me light. Why then do I forsake them as my plight?

I feel them shudder as they course through my veins, pulsing with the crimson tides that remain blue beneath the surface.

I taste them as they form on my tongue. some bitter, some sweet, some salty with the tears I can not shed, for they too have forsaken me.

I hear them crying from within, laughing from the heavens, whispering from the winds…

I see them as they merge with images, form as a painting of colors only to be melted away from the ridicule I cast myself…

I know them as I know myself… more so… I know them for their truths and they show me mine… I can not deny my words, yet they deny me… why must then do they continue to come?

I know. I am a failure to my dreams.

I know. I am a failure to my visions, to my words.

I know.  I am a failure to myself

My words, they hold so many dreams, so many wishes, so many lives, why then can they not hold mine. It pains me to leave them. I know I can not. I only wish them hear me, once.

Understand me, as I understand you. Make light your dreams, your visions, your way. Help me form my way, as I form yours.