What if you could taste the smell of Roses?
Or touch the sound of Laughter
To cultivate the hubris of a childs’ first word
And To captivate the passion of your very first love
...
My well is full of wishes
My wishes full of lust
My minds’ free to dream
But my soul is chained to trust
...
<It wasn’t about you
It wasn’t about me
It was acceptance of weaknesses
Or setting them free
...
Appearing Unyielding to the Presence of Void
Trying not to hurt you
Trying not to hurt too.
Tired of wanting you to want me
...
Rapture
What if you could taste the smell of Roses?
Or touch the sound of Laughter
To cultivate the hubris of a childs’ first word
And To captivate the passion of your very first love
If you could originate the joy that elicits a smile
Or navigate a tear sliding slowly down one’s cheek
Able to finger paint the hues in your very own rainbow
Or caress the clouds towed slowly cross the sky
To recover the purity of a raindrop, before it splatters against the ground
To tenaciously retain the lullabye of lightening
If you could hear the flowers groping gently towards the sun
Would their eminence still hold reverence?