Branch
If I could still remember my childhood...as a true child
once more.
There’s a big brassy image clouding my life.
There’s a small black marble consuming my mind.
There’s much to do that has no purpose for what this is.
There is what we call hope.
But hope does not change what has already happened.
There is no hope, which changes how we see our past and that scares us.
For We Are The Same.
And We Are The Same.
There is everything,
And there is nothing.
How fine,
How simple,
How joyless,
How great.
We must know what it feels like to embrace the future,
But the past does not give us the comfort of answers.
And We Find This,
Alarming.
Scary.
Unknown.
Still.
Great.
Force what we play and forget the rest,
As if it’s a God-like feeling.
We Are Always Aware.
We Are Brought to Life,
And Taken.
This is simple yet frightful.
Frightful.
There’s a big brassy image clouding my life.
There’s a small black marble consuming my mind.
There is what we call hope.
If I could still remember my childhood as a child.
Once more.
Breath.
Over.
Fear.