There's power that resides in the words of this book....a power that may compel you to believe the words you read....a power unbeknown to you ..but a power nonetheless...one I have no control over ...that overwhelms ..even me.
An itching to write ...like your itching to read.
That kind of itch you scratch till your smiling cheek to cheek.
That 'That's the right spot' kind of itch. Those itches that are disappointing because they stopped right when you were scratching real good.
I know ..I'm weird ...so you can wipe off that 'weeeiirrrd' look.
Sometimes... I write because I know I'll be misunderstood.
The beauty is in the angles you see...its all about perspective
Each observation of cleverly worded stars stringing up a constellation
And then there's more ....and suddenly your book painted a galaxy
Sent out the spaceships of their minds to different worlds
Different perspectives but the same words
The beauty is in the angles you see...
Whatever 2+3 equals to...for you
Doesn't have to be 5 for me
Maybe the very laws that bind us
Are the very same that set us free
Would I really have acknowledged the beauty of flight
Had gravity not held on to me?
The complexity of the inner workings of my heart
Had it not skipped a beat?
Would I treasure ...what it means to breathe
Enough to cause these pens to bleed
For their ink to be...
The picture of the shape I see
When I look deep
Into the depths that I call Me
