(no subject)
And I thought of times
when the dawn touched the tip of trees
to tall for me to even climb
and Sunday mornings that rang
with the sweetest silence
and hoof steps on the sleeping ground
and out here,
where trees are not family
and the roads do not endlessly wind
i find myself cut open
the blood freezing as it drains
and my heart living in memories
with hopes to recreate and redream
thundering hooves on pavement
freedom beneath our invisible wings
and its still there
with minutes and miles
to prove the liberties of freedom
and how we grasp them
and draw them onto the canvases of our lives
and someday it'll be clear as to where
constantly changing roads become pieces of a puzzle
lain in front of us to admire and reminisce
and we'll all smile
when the dawn touched the tip of trees
to tall for me to even climb
and Sunday mornings that rang
with the sweetest silence
and hoof steps on the sleeping ground
and out here,
where trees are not family
and the roads do not endlessly wind
i find myself cut open
the blood freezing as it drains
and my heart living in memories
with hopes to recreate and redream
thundering hooves on pavement
freedom beneath our invisible wings
and its still there
with minutes and miles
to prove the liberties of freedom
and how we grasp them
and draw them onto the canvases of our lives
and someday it'll be clear as to where
constantly changing roads become pieces of a puzzle
lain in front of us to admire and reminisce
and we'll all smile