Nothing to touch, Ill walk through the willow groves with the idea of knowing those once lost. Their Shadowy musk leaving a fowl stench in the air that I once held so true. But, I ask myself, for what purpose must one cleanse ones own soul. Save from the ridicule of never knowing the inner workings of man or woman, one must find faults in his dignity alone. To breathe is to eer. Or to be human, the phrase escape me in my time of need. But, with the ongoing struggle of the mediocrity that is my wretched soul, I ask to thee. Whats it all worth? For pennies, I could build you a boat. For dollars I could build you a ship, but in the end the point is mute. For, as we come into this world, we must exit the same. Ships and all, we shall leave this plane alone. But, what if there is a different route? One that would gratify our self-righteousness. One that would bring escape for all those who fear the end, but do not embrace the beginning. But alas, I am not so eloquent that I would presume to know the way it should be. I am not so helpless that I would presume to believe in a life not worth living. I am not so breathless that I would presume that my voice shant matter. If it is truly the heart in which makes us be whom we are and not the mind, then I ask you this. Will you be the one who is to be lost on the path of the unknown, or he who bends the path to his own will? The one who will speak for those without tongues, the one who will reach for those without arms, the one who will walk for those without legs? Will this be you? Or, will you just be another with nothing to touch? One that leave this mortal coil with stones left un-turned. Never leaving your mark.
Posted on: Wed, 12 Mar 2014 02:35:16 +0000