You can’t hold back my story.
I may be throwing stones,
standing on that cliff above the sea,
shoes cast off,
barefoot in the face of destiny—
oh so free, but living life
in stark dichotomy,
trying to look more objectively
while doubling further back to see
those stones falling, splattering
drops like stars into the fractal of astrology,
across the depths of my mind into eternity
as I circle ‘round searching for clarity,
my soul longing for ordinary
stones, the essence of memory,
dreams, and fantasy—
real and imaginary, sense and sensibility
opening onto infinity,
the hope of possibility,
so don’t dare take my creativity.
You’d find nothing more than false security—
neither truth nor justice,
nor praise, nor dignity—
you’re wasting time claiming space in my mind
and acting out of jealousy.
 Butterzworth · Sun May 08, 2011 @ 05:57am · 0 Comments |
