my world..
My world is a swirling dreamy instensity of mind and emotion, confusion & doubt, loniness & people. They look at me and I wonder what they think and what they feel. And if some have lost hope because they are starving and their children are already old or whether the others are content with the sleekness of their hide and hair and air conditioned barriers that divide them from the masses, and the misery of the world, and what they think of me and my prying eyes that look into their lives, just a glimpse and forever gone.
Its surreal and I wonder at everything, the pulse of my heart, the falling of leaves or the rain, the ticking of a clock stealing life away, the moon and stars, the histories of kings and gods, magicians and inventors and philosophers and artists, the lovely untaste of water, the way my heart and soul breathe in my emotions as they threaten to overwhelm me, trees and hills and oceans and the birds, war and peace and hope and love and lust and how men live and have lived, everything that is green and grows and also the growth of our cities of concrete and steel, which also live and die and have their own indescribable beauty. Sound and sight and breath and pulse, emotions, thoughts, touch and taste.
And I live on blithely in my cocoon with my windows open to the world, knowing that like everything else I must and will die, yet disbelieving that my mind and body and spirit, and this blinding, breathing world of mine will be lost forever in the infinity of the universe.
Its surreal and I wonder at everything, the pulse of my heart, the falling of leaves or the rain, the ticking of a clock stealing life away, the moon and stars, the histories of kings and gods, magicians and inventors and philosophers and artists, the lovely untaste of water, the way my heart and soul breathe in my emotions as they threaten to overwhelm me, trees and hills and oceans and the birds, war and peace and hope and love and lust and how men live and have lived, everything that is green and grows and also the growth of our cities of concrete and steel, which also live and die and have their own indescribable beauty. Sound and sight and breath and pulse, emotions, thoughts, touch and taste.
And I live on blithely in my cocoon with my windows open to the world, knowing that like everything else I must and will die, yet disbelieving that my mind and body and spirit, and this blinding, breathing world of mine will be lost forever in the infinity of the universe.