Be realistic child,
what you’re looking for, it’s not found on the tippity top tree branch stretching towards the sun. But I’ll climb. Be realistic child, it’s not hidden under the fold of a bird’s tender feathered wing. But I’ll fly. Be realistic child, it’s not strung up in bold print against a backdrop of shiny stars. But I’ll gaze. Be realistic child, it's not displayed in the shapes of fluffy white clouds floating lazily by. But I’ll imagine. Be realistic child, it’s not spelled out even in the rhythm of another’s heartbeat slowly drumming in your ear. But I’ll listen. Be realistic child. But I can’t. I prefer to let my mind run wild.
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I want to pull you
inside the cave where it’s dark but everything is clear where sunrays peek illuminating what’s real while shadows dance on the wall we watch them blur and then sharpen I want to pull you in where it’s quiet but my voice is loud it echoes and you see through my words as they tumble out and find your ears I want to pull you in where it’s calm but the air electric we breathe it in slow gulps as time slows then stops where the stars surround us in panorama shimmering far away but close enough to touch and the clouds put on a show making shapes where we are simply a universe forming |
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