The fire in her eyes burned bright,
But like the stars
The light took time
To reach the eyes of those
Who looked at her,
And it often went unnoticed
By those who only gazed,
Without getting to know
I wish I could take it all away
And bottle it up in jars of clay,
All the tears And all the pain,
Stored away on the top shelf,
Out of reach from human hands,
Or felt by human hearts,
But what these jars contain
Is much more than what we think,
And would be wasted If left sitting on the shelf,
We carry them with us,
We carry them in us,
Always for a higher purpose
Than what our teary eyes can see,
Broken before a King,
All the content falling apart Before
She wasn’t silent,
She was a thousand trees,
falling in a thousand forests,
With her head in the clouds,
just waiting to come down.
With no one around
To hear her land.
I wander if Autumn ever gets scared,
Knowing it will soon
Loose it’s splendor
In submission to the changing
Breathe of Winter,
Or if it welcomes it with open arms,
In surrender of the change,
Knowing that it’s time has passed
And that it must move on,
Delivering itself to the desolate
Wonder that lies ahead.
Or if it sighs not wanting to give in
To the beauty that it knows is waiting,
Because it would mean losing
I want to hide among the thorns
Like a wildflower,
With no expectation,
Kissing the sky,
So desperate for only
I want to be poetic,
Not in the sense that I want to
I want to sit by a fog filled window,
With a cup of coffee,
Staring out into the rainy afternoon
Or the morning sunrise.
Not moving nor doing anything
Breathing quietly as if I did so any
Louder I would wake the world
From its eternal slumber.
sipping the hot liquid wrapped
Around my finger tips,
Watching the world as if it almost
Refuses to exist,
As if I am not my own,
As if I am looking at me from
The outside in,
Like a little piece of poetry.
Depending on how you look at things, depends on how you see them. So many meanings for so many words, what is beautiful for one is terror for the other. The same two things can be used to talk of two different things and have entirely different meanings.
She loved so deeply
That her heart took root
To everyone she met.
The problem was that often times
The ground she chose didn’t deserve
The roots she grew,
Taking them away just to destroy
Everything that stood above the surface.
Till one day when the roots gave in,
Knowing they couldn’t take another blow,
They let go,
Taking so much with them,
And it destroyed them both.
We fight the stillness,
Trying our hardest to avoid the darkness
And the quiet that it brings,
Because even when we’re screaming in our own minds
For someone to save us from
The crowds of people taking over,
The quiet still seems lonely.
If only I would learn to let you speak.
Not just in the moments when the storm is higher
Then I know what to do with,
Or when the walls are too slick
At rock bottom that I can’t pull myself up,
Or the times I feel so lonely,
Forgetting who to turn to when I can’t feel you there.
But, in the moments when I feel you sitting there,
So strongly, waiting,
I can’t help but be anything but still.
Even when my mountains crumble,
Yours stay strong,
Screaming their adoration without saying a word,
The ocean crashes against the walls you gave it,
Obeying sometimes more silently than me,
In my stillness I am learning,
I can see, that you do so much of this for me.