Friday, April 30, 2010

Yellow Brick Road

There is but still there isn't
as if the absence in itself remained as a whole truth
waiting to be unfolded.
Still I can taste the incompleteness,
a bitter taste lingering on the tip of my tongue
recalling old misunderstandings, old floods.
As if there was but there wasn't,
as if the truth would still unfold.

The day opens up as a photo from a vintage movie
Brightly golden sunrise printed on a Kansas horizon
and still clicking my heels won't do the trick
While waves of gray distract my weary eyes
can't find the home that I still seek
And the shiny golden roads of guilt bricks
ahead of me
keep pointing the way

Because there won't be any words for us to say
when it comes to our goodbye
except for saying we did try
Surely we did try
on a smokey gray horizon up above
watching our every single move
as we got old
Though a single wire still connects
the way we feel to the way we felt
and as feeble as it was held by weak hands
we will survive the power of the cracks
that torn us apart once more

(i feel you but there's sadness galore)

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