He who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead; his eyes are closed.
--Albert Einstein --

Friday, April 3, 2009


I dream of things you cannot see
and see things of which I'll only dream
a list of everything I'll be
was not as long as it seemed

Don't have to hesitate to try
just to remember to let go
first a child and then we die
life like a pyroclastic flow

All these memories in my head
won’t define what I've lost
yet to envy all the dead
clinging to the path at any cost

Death wipes pain like a bleach
color won't escape this white tar
reach for the light we cannot reach
and fall among forgotten stars

I wrote a song about this life
painted it with sounds of joy
though the dull edge of this knife
didn’t cut the heart out of a boy

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