Like the blue that colours the violet, the red the roses,
and the ocean that washes upon the shores ever so slowly yet assuringly.
Like the wind that whispers in every gust and the calmness when it stops,
and the trees that watch silently and we not knowing.
Like myself for knowing yet not knowing and unsure of every step for the fear that,
somehow things will repeat yet the hope that it will not.
Into a world unknown, machines chomping heavily and a scarily dark world,
the need for a sign or direction would somewhat be useful.
A light that falls on that glimmer of hope that I would somewhat survive this simple tragedy,
don't want it to just be another one that has fallen like the autumn leaves, indistinguishable.
And then as absurd as it sounds the thoughts are more often then i would like.
But. whatever will be, will be.
and the ocean that washes upon the shores ever so slowly yet assuringly.
Like the wind that whispers in every gust and the calmness when it stops,
and the trees that watch silently and we not knowing.
Like myself for knowing yet not knowing and unsure of every step for the fear that,
somehow things will repeat yet the hope that it will not.
Into a world unknown, machines chomping heavily and a scarily dark world,
the need for a sign or direction would somewhat be useful.
A light that falls on that glimmer of hope that I would somewhat survive this simple tragedy,
don't want it to just be another one that has fallen like the autumn leaves, indistinguishable.
And then as absurd as it sounds the thoughts are more often then i would like.
But. whatever will be, will be.
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