(no subject)
Queen of The World
I remember the feeling of strength.
The kind that courses through your veins
with a thundering speed,
that makes you feel unstoppable.
Oh, I was unstoppable.
I knew what truth was.
I knew myself.
Everything I did know was sure and factual
with a purity to rival that of a fresh snow.
Snow was cold. I knew that.
Nothing else mattered,
Because I was on top of the world.
Funny how security can disappear so quick
like a shell in the ocean, under a wave.
Gone in three seconds flat,
leaving no trace to show it had ever been there.
I lost you and the floor dropped.
Knowledge wiped clean,
an eraser over chalk on a black board.
Nothing is certain any more, and the feeling
is the scariest thing I have ever felt.
Strength dissolved, I sit here trying to remember.
To remember what it was like
on top of the world.
The snow I was once so sure was cold
now undulates between cool and boiling.
The only constants now are the lack of truth
and the blurred vision through which I view my old throne.
My veins are filled with empty questions,
and the pain of not knowing what is around the corner
stalks me at every turn I make.
Map gone, plan vanished.
Walking on glass could not be more uncertain.
The icey path I walk is your mirrored reflection,
and I wonder now if I will ever regain my view
from the top of the world.
~B.P.
May 22,
2005
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I remember the feeling of strength.
The kind that courses through your veins
with a thundering speed,
that makes you feel unstoppable.
Oh, I was unstoppable.
I knew what truth was.
I knew myself.
Everything I did know was sure and factual
with a purity to rival that of a fresh snow.
Snow was cold. I knew that.
Nothing else mattered,
Because I was on top of the world.
Funny how security can disappear so quick
like a shell in the ocean, under a wave.
Gone in three seconds flat,
leaving no trace to show it had ever been there.
I lost you and the floor dropped.
Knowledge wiped clean,
an eraser over chalk on a black board.
Nothing is certain any more, and the feeling
is the scariest thing I have ever felt.
Strength dissolved, I sit here trying to remember.
To remember what it was like
on top of the world.
The snow I was once so sure was cold
now undulates between cool and boiling.
The only constants now are the lack of truth
and the blurred vision through which I view my old throne.
My veins are filled with empty questions,
and the pain of not knowing what is around the corner
stalks me at every turn I make.
Map gone, plan vanished.
Walking on glass could not be more uncertain.
The icey path I walk is your mirrored reflection,
and I wonder now if I will ever regain my view
from the top of the world.
~B.P.
May 22,
2005
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**********************************************************
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