Wednesday, March 27, 2013

A Waste Of Space.

     A Waste Of Space.

Could it be said?
Yes, but maybe,
Just maybe it isn't true.
The rhythm and rhyme,
The daily time,
Spent mulling over,
White cliffs of Dover,
Or rolling,
In fields of golden clover.

Should it be feared?
Yes, but possibly,
Just possibly it is beginning.
The daily dose morose,
The spectre gross,
How well we love
To rise high above,
Or fighting,
To still be beloved.

Will you be fooled?
Yes, but honestly,
Just honestly it could heal.
The pain of your heart,
The lonely start,
Be sent far away,
And brighten up your day,
Or calling,
Your spirit home to stay.

Wouldn't it be right?
Yes, but probably,
Just probably my wordiness saves,
The need to fear,
The silent ear,
And an empty goal,
I can fill in this hole,
Or inviting,
Breathe passion into your soul.