Lost in Thoughts

Don’t let it go ‘Cause that dream is your show.  Go out there, Bask in the spotlights. If no stage, then Sing under the starlight Gleaming in the moonshine Your boundaries got no line. Drink in a thousand sights At dinner tables under chandelier lights Gleaming forks upon napkins, snow-white. If not, honey, then it’s alright. Set your own table Bold tablecloths trailing the dusk-lit ground  With truest of friends to dine around Wooden chairs and plastic cups The chatter, the music of divine As we sit and age like fine wine.  Be wild, Be free Be all that you want to be. Run to places off the map Chart new roads, one time, a lap As willing as the white winds Scared as you might be. You make your choices Shut out those miserable voices That tell you to sit and sip tea Step on your ship and sail the sea If not for treasure, Then for the breeze. Don’t let it go. ‘Cause your dream is your show.

~A take on depression~ I can't write. No, I can't. It is there where my pen staggers. My pen. My trusting friend. Truest and beloved. He that never failed me. Never failed my heart. Staggers here. He pauses, confused. At the tumult. He, that has translated worlds unheard of, from within the depths of my mind, stammers here. Is it a void that sucks in all the color and clamor from the world outside? My pen, that had advanced onto the paper, stops and looks up questioningly. Or is it a gray bubble that holds you within, sealing you air-tight from the nice world outside. Frail and floating, sluggish and slippery, with nothing to hold on to? No. I don't think so. One can still let the colors blind him. He can still belong and feel snug as a cat on her favorite couch, when outside, yet somehow feel alien. Not any of this fancy void or bubble business. My pen frowns, radiating keen disappointment. Two very strong imageries to be put down on paper. But a comprehens...