Memories, words, and vast blank spaces
What do they all mean?
Why do things have so many faces?
They beckon me to come,
Not to yearn to succeed
To be outside
Not bound, but free.
But this world, pressed of time
Simply gives me no heed.
I am bound with responsibility,
I am expected to succeed.
But to truly understand,
We need to not just listen,
But to really see.
We are not truly free.
_________________________________
Originally written Dec 20 2005, revised Feb 27 2009.
No comments:
Post a Comment