So I haven't been sleeping very well lately and my brain has been trying to figure out the reason why. I couldn't really come up with a lot, at least nothing that made perfect sense or added up to "Bingo!" However, I feel the need to share the numerous possibilities with those of you who may also be in need of a good 8 hour sleep session.
My lack of sleep and ability to reform to the "normal" sleeping patterns of a regular human being could very well be linked to my new job. Yes, I'm working at a cafe once again, for those who were unaware. It's a Cuban influenced club/bar and their decor and "ooooh latina!" music is enough to keep me, even if the crazy, old, drugged-up, batty and homeless loons at the X make me wanna run in the opposite direction.
I've been working a lot of night shifts, which has of course completely screwed with 'the plan' of me seeing through the end of my six month Tafe degree as it is virtually impossible to come home at 2-6 in the morning and get up a few hours later. Although, it's not the getting up that is the problem. It's the fact that my body doesn't let me unwind for close to three hours after I step foot inside my house, let alone sleep. And yes, sure, my body wakes itself up again about 2 hours after I've drifted of.
Fact is though, the energy is what is then lacking. My eyes may be awake and to everyone else I may look ready to begin the day, but my insides are screaming out "No! Stay in bed! So tired!" and I obey. Therefore, screwing with my degree, and failing to get the simplist of tasts done. Example; cleaning mountains of clothes off cupboard, finishing half-done assignments and getting my ass to work again. In conclusion, I do agree that the work issue, is contributing to my sleep related issues of late.
However, I think there may be more to it than just that. You see, the time for me to leave Sydney is once again approaching and might I add, at quite the rapid pace! As I sit here in the dark, wheaty warmers snuggled around my tummy and toes in bed, I realise it is already the first day of June. June 2009. It feels like only yesterday I was returning from my last overseas stay and that was in April 2007. Over two years ago.
I'm realising more and more every day how much there is to get done before I leave. I always have a new plan, or idea... a task I need to complete and while the thoughts continue to pile and mount on top of me, the date to fly creeps closer and closer. Yet, I sit here, yellow sticky notes plastered over my computer background with a list that seems to be growing, rather than shrinking. It's no secret, this kind of thing would be enough to make even the most in control person panic, at least a little right? Or...?
So story continued, I was talking to the boy tonight and I realised, by the time we leave this house it will have been nearly a year that we lived in this building. Almost one whole year in this tiny box of a room which boasts the most beautiful balcony, of which we have never, ever used. In fact, I believe the boy's Mum used it more during her 3 week visit to Australia than we have, this entire past year. If a year can go so quickly, then why am I so nervous about leaving once again? I'm wondering if the nerves have something to do with my not sleeping. All that anticipation? All those unanswered questions?
You see, what I had planned for this past 6 months, was clearly unrealistic, however having thought them, and not completed all the thoughts I had planted in my head, has left me feeling a little low. More uneasy than low really. I planned to finish my course, of course! I also planned to have done a 'Teach English Overseas" course, a French course, a TV presenting course, a photography course and a creative writing course. Not to mention the 4 dance classes a week I had hoped to be taking... Oh also, the Yoga/Pilates 4 mornings a week, and gym on the other 3. What a laugh! I'm sitting here and I haven't done any of those things other than the first. Now that's just sad.
Perhaps that is why I am left feeling so dissatisfied... left with this sour taste in my mouth. It can be blamed on none other than myself of course and yes, for this I am disappointed.
So I guess I am scared that my plans for the next few months before I leave, not to mention the plans post departure, may perhaps sing-a-long to the same failed tune all those other great ideas did and I'll be left with another stack of superb plans, which like in the past 6 months, will NOT happen.
My mind doesn't appear to want me to rest though. It wants me awake at all times. It's as though if I so much as blink, my head believes I may miss something. To be honest, I think it's all this staying awake which is factoring into me missing out on things.
Maybe I do need to stay awake, but not in the typical sense. It could be, that I need to wake up and open my eyes to the things I've never considered, or expected from the world. For all I know, the unexpected may be exactly what I need. In which case,
I will then start predicting and pondering the pounce of that which is unexpected... this of course will then force the unveiling of such unknown tales, into expected territory... and expectations are, what I should be steering clear from. Correct? The twistered and tormenting tales of my brain confuse the hell out of me.
It's all a money thing you know, at the core of it all. As horrific as that sounds. Lets just say it out loud and then leave it open for discussion, but I personally, put it down to money. If someone gave me a loan of say... 20 grand, I'd be attempting all those big ideas and not only that, I'd be tackling them and triumphing every single time! Or at least that's the story I like to chew on for now. Prepare for me to spit it back out though, should I ever actually come into contact with 20 thousand dollars.
In my dreams though, all I really want to do is travel... and write. Take photos and inspire people when they're not feeling overly inspired. But most of all, I'd love to create a reason for myself and others to smile. The purest and most important kind of smile, the true kind. Sounds simple enough doesn't it? So why does it all require so much planning and time and money?
Oh this world continues to spin, this is true and as it does, it persists to blow my mind. Confusing me with every single shift. I plan on figuring it all out someday you know. Just you wait. I'll be the girl with a "I told you so!" flag dancing on her tippy toes from the highest viewpoint of the worlds tallest mountains.
But still I wonder, what is required from us all, while here on this earth? Maybe it's simple. Maybe it's sleep. So you can continue to dream. We all need sleep. Without it, the cross over between layering planes become hazey, and the potential for both lives, those of our dreams and those of our realities become harder to manage and may end up lost.
Juggling the two in perfect harmony may just be what we find in those unexpected moments... if we let ourselves.
You see, these are the child like moments I have so often, where I wish my mother would shower me with her kisses as I fall to sleep with the scent I know so well as hers, still lingering in the air around me. It's time to sleep now, wish me luck and beautiful dreams to accompany it.
"Nini, love you, sleep well, see you in the morning" - The perfect words which, thanks to my mother, will play forever in my head, for the rest of my days as I drift to sleep.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Thursday, May 28, 2009
“and when I think now, of where I might be next year, I realise it doesn’t matter… because I’ll be alive”
A mountain. Two cars and a family. A pregnant sister-in-law, a chased-after Chinese dinner and a lack of the trees that, my mind knows, usually stand in place of the orange clay rock.
A local family of whom I had befriended closely the two younger siblings play a role in this story. Their presence is felt and although the face of my first crush, the middle child, lets call him T, is never seen, I know it is him who is wearing the red and white soccer-looking jersey. He is older and has a friend following him while his younger sister is still small. I notice this as she shows me her new high heels, in her upstairs bedroom, which when I look at the sole, realise is only a size 1 and a half.
There seem to be flashes of me as a child too, getting ready for what in my head, I believe to be a ballet concert. Instead, I am being dressed in what looks to be a mascots outfit, perhaps a bear or a something similar. I’m pushed out onto the football field where all the seats are filled with bodies clapping. The nerves flutter away and I smile. I’m so small, but so accomplished in this moment.
I’m now at a house, standing outside with familiar presences all around me. There is my Father to my right, who is standing the closest to the woman sitting in a chair in front of us all, yelling. She is ill, unable to remember who we all are and is screaming at us for it. I can sense my father is trying to calm her but she seems to be untameable. She’s confused as to why we are standing in her garden.
Flash to me staring at a large black board where pictures have been pinned. The pictures are of my life and people I’ve known. Not my life as it has happened in the world today, but the events of perhaps me on another level of existence. I look incredibly happy and so do the photos of others around me. We’re all posing and dancing with bright yellow sunflowers. We’re dressed in what looks to be, hippy-inspired clothing. Splashed with bright colours, like purple, red, yellow, orange and even brown. I’m wearing large sunglasses in nearly every picture and we all look incredibly free.
As my eyes return from the ground, I realise I am standing in front of the old lady once more, tears trickling down my cheeks as I explain to her who we are and how much we love her. I show her the pictures and let her know that without her, none of this would be possible; none of us would be possible. I cry as I tell her how happy we all are and how it is all because of her that we are this way. She’s a bitter old woman for not seeing that. I tell her we come everyday because we love her and unlike her, we remember the good times. She then begins to cry too.
Suddenly I am back in a car again, on the way to pick up a Chinese family dinner. My partner is driving in the seat next to me and there is a passenger whose company I can feel but I do not see. There is a car travelling slowly in front of us and the passenger in the back encourages F to overtake. He moves to the right hand lane and begins to speed up. He doesn’t know the roads as well as I do though. I gasp and yell, “No you can’t! Not around this bend! Please!” I yank on F’s shirt and he swerves back in at the last second, in time only to see the huge water truck on the other side of the corner. It’s big and red and a little faded, but I see it. I’m left panting from the ordeal. Another car enters from the laneway just near the bend. I know my pregnant sister-in-law is in it. My father is in it also. Seconds later and they could have been us; in danger. I know now that they’re safe and sense they are on their way to the same take-away dinner location as the three of us. I take a breath.
I find myself suddenly, standing in a garden. My mother’s beloved garden. Green and full of leafy hideaways. My mother is in a white linen dress and she speaks calmly and gently as she always has. We discuss life and the world as we so often do, before she relays to me that a visitor has been to see her.
F is in the garden while I’m talking things over with my mother, but he’s in the distance and he’s jumping frantically over rocks, towards the back of the property. He’s looking for his friends and calling to them for directions. They call back and I know he’s getting closer to them, but I can see flashes of his black shoes pounding the ground as if he were standing right next to me. I sense his footsteps so close that I reach out to grab him only he’s not there. My mum leans in to whisper to me and says, “He said to keep him posted”.
Any further thoughts are interrupted as my younger brother, my best friend and true soul mate, cries out for the attention of all in the garden. Everyone freezes and their eyes shoot toward J, where he stands, arms stretched either side of him, up and out into the air. He confesses his depressive state of mind. He weeps that he has lost all sense and is unable to see a clear future for himself. He admits he is entirely unsure of where he will be next year, because he doesn’t see himself anywhere next year. I am unable to breathe. My life stops in this moment.
I am sucked out of this time and into another. The happy pictures flash before my eyes once more and I begin to cry as I am faced with the image of myself, cradling the photographs of a better life. Holding on to the smiles, the colours and the sunflowers as though if I held tightly enough, I may be able to change the world. Tears gently roll down my face as I utter “It doesn’t matter where I’ll be next year, because I know now, I’ll be alive”.
I wake from this dream with indescribable fear throbbing through my veins. Fear for my brother and panic for his life. I debate for 3-4 minutes the idea of getting up to locate my phone and message him, to make sure he’s okay. After the long 3-4 minute debate I held with myself, I go in search of my phone. Found, I wake and write the text to my brother, at 3:03am Thurs 28th May 2009. I then open my laptop to churn out this wild, and most probably, only to me, frightening tale of lives, which strangely enough, seem to incorporate most people I know/knew or care/cared about in my life.
Maybe it’s not my brother I should be scared for? Perhaps my dream is telling me something about my own life? If so, is it my own life I should fear for? My baby brother has not replied, but I am hoping he is safe and warm in his queen sized bed, next to his girlfriend, in their 1 bedroom apartment, only a 15 minute walk from me here. To those I know/knew and love/loved, I do, honestly and desperately love you all.
PS – My brother messaged me at lunch today and he is fine. Although he commented that the time I had woken from this dream, was around the time he had gone to bed. Strange or?
A local family of whom I had befriended closely the two younger siblings play a role in this story. Their presence is felt and although the face of my first crush, the middle child, lets call him T, is never seen, I know it is him who is wearing the red and white soccer-looking jersey. He is older and has a friend following him while his younger sister is still small. I notice this as she shows me her new high heels, in her upstairs bedroom, which when I look at the sole, realise is only a size 1 and a half.
There seem to be flashes of me as a child too, getting ready for what in my head, I believe to be a ballet concert. Instead, I am being dressed in what looks to be a mascots outfit, perhaps a bear or a something similar. I’m pushed out onto the football field where all the seats are filled with bodies clapping. The nerves flutter away and I smile. I’m so small, but so accomplished in this moment.
I’m now at a house, standing outside with familiar presences all around me. There is my Father to my right, who is standing the closest to the woman sitting in a chair in front of us all, yelling. She is ill, unable to remember who we all are and is screaming at us for it. I can sense my father is trying to calm her but she seems to be untameable. She’s confused as to why we are standing in her garden.
Flash to me staring at a large black board where pictures have been pinned. The pictures are of my life and people I’ve known. Not my life as it has happened in the world today, but the events of perhaps me on another level of existence. I look incredibly happy and so do the photos of others around me. We’re all posing and dancing with bright yellow sunflowers. We’re dressed in what looks to be, hippy-inspired clothing. Splashed with bright colours, like purple, red, yellow, orange and even brown. I’m wearing large sunglasses in nearly every picture and we all look incredibly free.
As my eyes return from the ground, I realise I am standing in front of the old lady once more, tears trickling down my cheeks as I explain to her who we are and how much we love her. I show her the pictures and let her know that without her, none of this would be possible; none of us would be possible. I cry as I tell her how happy we all are and how it is all because of her that we are this way. She’s a bitter old woman for not seeing that. I tell her we come everyday because we love her and unlike her, we remember the good times. She then begins to cry too.
Suddenly I am back in a car again, on the way to pick up a Chinese family dinner. My partner is driving in the seat next to me and there is a passenger whose company I can feel but I do not see. There is a car travelling slowly in front of us and the passenger in the back encourages F to overtake. He moves to the right hand lane and begins to speed up. He doesn’t know the roads as well as I do though. I gasp and yell, “No you can’t! Not around this bend! Please!” I yank on F’s shirt and he swerves back in at the last second, in time only to see the huge water truck on the other side of the corner. It’s big and red and a little faded, but I see it. I’m left panting from the ordeal. Another car enters from the laneway just near the bend. I know my pregnant sister-in-law is in it. My father is in it also. Seconds later and they could have been us; in danger. I know now that they’re safe and sense they are on their way to the same take-away dinner location as the three of us. I take a breath.
I find myself suddenly, standing in a garden. My mother’s beloved garden. Green and full of leafy hideaways. My mother is in a white linen dress and she speaks calmly and gently as she always has. We discuss life and the world as we so often do, before she relays to me that a visitor has been to see her.
F is in the garden while I’m talking things over with my mother, but he’s in the distance and he’s jumping frantically over rocks, towards the back of the property. He’s looking for his friends and calling to them for directions. They call back and I know he’s getting closer to them, but I can see flashes of his black shoes pounding the ground as if he were standing right next to me. I sense his footsteps so close that I reach out to grab him only he’s not there. My mum leans in to whisper to me and says, “He said to keep him posted”.
Any further thoughts are interrupted as my younger brother, my best friend and true soul mate, cries out for the attention of all in the garden. Everyone freezes and their eyes shoot toward J, where he stands, arms stretched either side of him, up and out into the air. He confesses his depressive state of mind. He weeps that he has lost all sense and is unable to see a clear future for himself. He admits he is entirely unsure of where he will be next year, because he doesn’t see himself anywhere next year. I am unable to breathe. My life stops in this moment.
I am sucked out of this time and into another. The happy pictures flash before my eyes once more and I begin to cry as I am faced with the image of myself, cradling the photographs of a better life. Holding on to the smiles, the colours and the sunflowers as though if I held tightly enough, I may be able to change the world. Tears gently roll down my face as I utter “It doesn’t matter where I’ll be next year, because I know now, I’ll be alive”.
I wake from this dream with indescribable fear throbbing through my veins. Fear for my brother and panic for his life. I debate for 3-4 minutes the idea of getting up to locate my phone and message him, to make sure he’s okay. After the long 3-4 minute debate I held with myself, I go in search of my phone. Found, I wake and write the text to my brother, at 3:03am Thurs 28th May 2009. I then open my laptop to churn out this wild, and most probably, only to me, frightening tale of lives, which strangely enough, seem to incorporate most people I know/knew or care/cared about in my life.
Maybe it’s not my brother I should be scared for? Perhaps my dream is telling me something about my own life? If so, is it my own life I should fear for? My baby brother has not replied, but I am hoping he is safe and warm in his queen sized bed, next to his girlfriend, in their 1 bedroom apartment, only a 15 minute walk from me here. To those I know/knew and love/loved, I do, honestly and desperately love you all.
PS – My brother messaged me at lunch today and he is fine. Although he commented that the time I had woken from this dream, was around the time he had gone to bed. Strange or?
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Pretty Petty Pink Bloom
Something I really dislike is pettiness. Petty people. Petty behaviour. But most of all, petty excuses.
Petty words escaping from petty mouths, forming petty little riddles of a hypercritical and egotistical nature. If you have a problem, you may as well just say it... instead of playing the innocent petal that has been shaken from the bloom. They all held you in the center of the garden for far too long with your pretty pink blossom of a head shaking along in the confident air. You take them for granted, day in and day out. Adore your place among the green. You believe they owe you, their time and attention. You bathe in the shower of love and admiration they feed you. Soaking up their every drop. Have you ever thought, that just maybe this palm of safety, you so selfishly command, was not intended to purely please you? Have you ever dreamed, even for a moment, about a day when your absorbed existence would stop and think in depth of the one who belongs to the hand that you hold? Your pettiness is far beyond expectation but they love you for it still. Don't be so petty and naive to think that life will stay the same forever. The hand that you have adopted as your support deserves to feel the same in return and it's only a matter of time before that support is found.
Petty words escaping from petty mouths, forming petty little riddles of a hypercritical and egotistical nature. If you have a problem, you may as well just say it... instead of playing the innocent petal that has been shaken from the bloom. They all held you in the center of the garden for far too long with your pretty pink blossom of a head shaking along in the confident air. You take them for granted, day in and day out. Adore your place among the green. You believe they owe you, their time and attention. You bathe in the shower of love and admiration they feed you. Soaking up their every drop. Have you ever thought, that just maybe this palm of safety, you so selfishly command, was not intended to purely please you? Have you ever dreamed, even for a moment, about a day when your absorbed existence would stop and think in depth of the one who belongs to the hand that you hold? Your pettiness is far beyond expectation but they love you for it still. Don't be so petty and naive to think that life will stay the same forever. The hand that you have adopted as your support deserves to feel the same in return and it's only a matter of time before that support is found.
Friday, May 22, 2009
Trust
"It's not so easy to get back into the ring, especially with the one who knocked you out in the first place."
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Thursday, May 14, 2009
We're worth it
Sometimes in life you just need a push or a shove to realise something. To put your world back into perspective. I like the world we have created for ourselves and I hate that sometimes I get caught in the black pit of despair. I promise to stop falling in though. I promise to try my best to stand by your side for the rest of our days, as strong as I can be... we're worth that.
I love you... x
I love you... x
Not even...
six thousand words a day can touch on the memories of times gone by...
too much to say, all the time has run out.
too much to say, all the time has run out.
Deepest of all...
I'm going to write a book...
It may be called... "My Great Loves" or perhaps "The Workings Of My Heart" orrrr... "A Heart Born To Love" okay they're getting cornier, and sounding like a stupid romance novel. Although I suppose that is exactly what they would be... to an extent. Why don't I just snatch "My Heart Will Go On" and be done with it?
"Great Loves - By The Girl" ... mmm yeah, I can't think so much right now.
Anyway, I'm going to write a book... about those who inspired love to appear in me. Those who I loved or who loved me. The experiences I've had and the ways love has changed my life, or in some cases, kept me exactly the same.
I want to write about love because it's the most real emotion that exists in me. It's raw and real and is completely free of logic. Love flies, it soars high above us and is entirely unexplainable. All I've ever wanted was to glide along with it, right by its side, holding tightly the hand of one wanting to fly with me.
Some people may have been put here to dance, to finance, to talk, to listen, to lead, to follow, to change or remain the same, but I believe I was put here to love. To love in the purist way possible.
The people in my life helped me to get where I am today. Those I loved had enormous impacts on me and without them, I would be lost. They deserve the recognition. They deserve to know they were loved. It's my turn to speak now.
I'm sure no one will want to publish or buy this book which I am suddenly convinced I must write, but I am determined to understand myself and all I've been through. I want so much for all to know, I have always loved the deepest of all. x
It may be called... "My Great Loves" or perhaps "The Workings Of My Heart" orrrr... "A Heart Born To Love" okay they're getting cornier, and sounding like a stupid romance novel. Although I suppose that is exactly what they would be... to an extent. Why don't I just snatch "My Heart Will Go On" and be done with it?
"Great Loves - By The Girl" ... mmm yeah, I can't think so much right now.
Anyway, I'm going to write a book... about those who inspired love to appear in me. Those who I loved or who loved me. The experiences I've had and the ways love has changed my life, or in some cases, kept me exactly the same.
I want to write about love because it's the most real emotion that exists in me. It's raw and real and is completely free of logic. Love flies, it soars high above us and is entirely unexplainable. All I've ever wanted was to glide along with it, right by its side, holding tightly the hand of one wanting to fly with me.
Some people may have been put here to dance, to finance, to talk, to listen, to lead, to follow, to change or remain the same, but I believe I was put here to love. To love in the purist way possible.
The people in my life helped me to get where I am today. Those I loved had enormous impacts on me and without them, I would be lost. They deserve the recognition. They deserve to know they were loved. It's my turn to speak now.
I'm sure no one will want to publish or buy this book which I am suddenly convinced I must write, but I am determined to understand myself and all I've been through. I want so much for all to know, I have always loved the deepest of all. x
The milky white layering between lives...
Maybe I’m scared because I never got to tell my side of the story. Maybe it’s hard because I couldn’t trust. When a trust is taken from you once, it’s hard to go back to that safe place of believing 100%, without doubt and whole-heartedly. You’re always second-guessing, wondering if this time the words will be real, or if you’re about to get your heart broken again. It’s hard to learn to trust again. It takes so much work… and time, a lot of time. When you don’t have that time, things slip away. Not because they mean any less or because you don’t care anymore, they slip away because that lack of time lets them slip away. It’s so simple and yet complex beyond belief. There are too many factors to be considered before you lay yourself flat on the table, pure and free once more, in the same manner you did all those times before, in the past. You lay free of sin and pain, body the colour of flawless milky white, open for the taking. Hoping for a love so strong and passionate to wash over you, taking your innocence but leaving your purity. The milky white layering can only last as long as the love remains free of pollution. Once burnt, your skin is already tarnished. Now you lay flat on the table with flesh wounds. Less appealing to loves prospects. The damage heals over time or, at the least it does on the outside. Your flesh slowly begins to appear a little more together, still with visible bruising but not enough to turn love away. You find that love and passion once more, if you let it and you know this because you feel its waves rushing over your soul. It’s never the same as the time before… I think that’s because our bodies learn to heal on the outside but forget to build back the rest. What lives inside, is completely different. A heart that once illuminated the colour red brightly through the purist and whitest of skins doesn’t always light itself again in the way it once did. That heart slowly but surely loses its heat and vibrancy. No one knows what is going on inside because no one is inside. You get to a place when you can’t let anyone else in. So how can they judge you? How can anyone presume or assume things that they do not know? Presuming can be unhealthy. About as unhealthy as living a lie because you’re too scared to face the possibility of that light radiating the way it once did. Too frightened that everything you may have been looking for, could actually be staring you right in the face. My skin doesn’t feel as white or as pure as it once did and I blame time for this. Timing is everything. The heart aches, for what it wants and also often, what it knows… the rest depends on the timing. Maybe my heart never sat high up in my chest, perhaps I always carried mine on my sleeve and maybe that’s exactly why I stand where I am today. I’d give anything though to lay once more and have the spirit of true desires sweep over me like the most comforting blanket, curing a past and covering me once more in that innocent, white sheet of honest layering.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Comfortable
I loved you, gray sweat pants, no make-up, so perfect...
Our love was comfortable and so broken in
She's perfect, so flawless, I'm not impressed
I want you back...
Our love was comfortable and so broken in
She's perfect, so flawless, I'm not impressed
I want you back...
Tiny Dancer...
Blue jean baby, L.A. lady, seamstress for the band
Pretty eyed, pirate smile, you'll marry a music man
Ballerina, you must have seen her dancing in the sand
And now she's in me, always with me, tiny dancer in my hand
Hold me closer tiny dancer...
Pretty eyed, pirate smile, you'll marry a music man
Ballerina, you must have seen her dancing in the sand
And now she's in me, always with me, tiny dancer in my hand
Hold me closer tiny dancer...
Sunday, May 3, 2009
"Whole heartedly and consumingly"...
Some of the most honest and perfect words I have read in a long time.
Thanks for letting me read them... there's not a better way of describing how I see, feel and act... and there they were... words...written by someone other than me... who gets it too.
x
Thanks for letting me read them... there's not a better way of describing how I see, feel and act... and there they were... words...written by someone other than me... who gets it too.
x
To love like us...
I saw the look of love in someones eyes the other night
I know this look because I've seen it before
I've seen it and I've felt it
I know this look like the back of my own hand
Because this kind of love
Is the love I live by
I've often wondered if others feel a love in the same way
As I myself feel it, intense and powerful as it is
Wreckless at times and often vacant from logic
In this night I realised it was not only me
Who feels passion in the same way as I do
She was kind, anyone could see it in her eyes
And loving beyond reason
I think we all believe we're cursed
When we're born to love in such a way
We are cast upon by a spell so powerful
It is able to shake our entire being
And create pictures of desired fantasies
Dreams about a land where those we love
Will love us back in the exact same way
Once we hit that almighty and powerful love
There's no turning back
But often no reason to stay
We do not choose the people we love
Our hearts make those decisions for us
That's what creates its honesty
And the power of this very emotion
This innocent form of feeling
Is what makes a gentle heart beat faster
The purity of love is only held within the hands
Of those willing to be hurt by love
The knowledge of such pain to come
But ability to continue to do so
That is the blessing we do not, in these times see
And although we never seem to love
Those, who love in the way we do
We should never let our truths be changed
Or altered in order to create realism
Where the fantasy once stood
As to live a modified form of yourself
Would be the ultimate lie
A lover is a dreamer
And a dreamer does not live to lie
To love like you is true
I saw it in your eyes
And although they might be blind to your depth
Or unwilling to change their ways
I would love for you to know
That when the night becomes cold
When the years continue to go by
It will be you who stands in the back of a mind
A mind full of regret
As they realise that, to love
In the way that we do
Is the greatest gift of all
Never change, you're perfect the way you are
Even if not seen, by the one who you adore
I know this look because I've seen it before
I've seen it and I've felt it
I know this look like the back of my own hand
Because this kind of love
Is the love I live by
I've often wondered if others feel a love in the same way
As I myself feel it, intense and powerful as it is
Wreckless at times and often vacant from logic
In this night I realised it was not only me
Who feels passion in the same way as I do
She was kind, anyone could see it in her eyes
And loving beyond reason
I think we all believe we're cursed
When we're born to love in such a way
We are cast upon by a spell so powerful
It is able to shake our entire being
And create pictures of desired fantasies
Dreams about a land where those we love
Will love us back in the exact same way
Once we hit that almighty and powerful love
There's no turning back
But often no reason to stay
We do not choose the people we love
Our hearts make those decisions for us
That's what creates its honesty
And the power of this very emotion
This innocent form of feeling
Is what makes a gentle heart beat faster
The purity of love is only held within the hands
Of those willing to be hurt by love
The knowledge of such pain to come
But ability to continue to do so
That is the blessing we do not, in these times see
And although we never seem to love
Those, who love in the way we do
We should never let our truths be changed
Or altered in order to create realism
Where the fantasy once stood
As to live a modified form of yourself
Would be the ultimate lie
A lover is a dreamer
And a dreamer does not live to lie
To love like you is true
I saw it in your eyes
And although they might be blind to your depth
Or unwilling to change their ways
I would love for you to know
That when the night becomes cold
When the years continue to go by
It will be you who stands in the back of a mind
A mind full of regret
As they realise that, to love
In the way that we do
Is the greatest gift of all
Never change, you're perfect the way you are
Even if not seen, by the one who you adore
Saturday, May 2, 2009
A New Place
Feel its soothing sensation
Fall down upon your skin
Washing away everything you know
And all that you have seen
Relish in the seconds of pure bliss
Pride yourself for dancing beneath it
Wrapping your body through and beyond
All you expect from this moment
And curled inside its clarity
You will have found a new place to hide
Fall down upon your skin
Washing away everything you know
And all that you have seen
Relish in the seconds of pure bliss
Pride yourself for dancing beneath it
Wrapping your body through and beyond
All you expect from this moment
And curled inside its clarity
You will have found a new place to hide
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