"children of the sun." (2011)
I still smile at the moon like I know her,
and at best I write lines in the interest of hope,
a lifetime of distance trying to implement growth,
with her scent and silhouette on the right side of my mind and temporal lobe,
she reanimates nightly for a rare performance,
and I can't help but stare towards it,
in a Freudian attempt,
to have been aware of what's withheld and dormant,
and the importance of our consortium that exists in its' frail self-absorbance,
It's the echoes of soft keys and heart strings,
talk teamed with thoughts to think,
hard drinks, conscious streams and the loss of sleep,
while the constant talking of non-beliefs,
makes me feel as if I've taught the walls to speak,
so Im writing this down for the silence I've found,
that prior to now I was without,
relying on self, eyeing the clouds,
with only time and the science of sound,
wondering if she'll ever try to come down or if I should rise to her ground....
Once this feeling has you numb,
And you've all been consumed,
It's the children of the sun writing songs for the moon.
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