I get so swallowed by the echo
that bellows and sways in tune
to the edges of the dark room
where here you’re not so soon.
Trainwrecks and plane crashes
have come askew through news.
I don’t think they know that here
a tragedy that many suffer pursues.
It is the hopes and dreams made
that get get crushed under weight
that reality is hard to just suffer
and what we want often has to wait.
During a sojourn to dieing lands
I reach out for dust to command,
with my mind I can build castles
then fate washes it away as sand.
Pain is a bruise that never parts.
It is a tear and a scar that bodies
carry around under shirts so clean
yet it crashes dreams of everybody.
So we sort out the parts we need
create dreams with great speed.
For the soul needs the nurturing
the world neither supplies or feeds.
Forgive me to the world that tries
to understand me that to survive,
I dream dreams of soft curved eyes
lifting up that strive to bring alive.
So that the sight is so magnificent
and people should say what is meant,
so the truth is set free and not bent
so troubled hearts don’t bleed in lament.