Blowing With the Wind

When life is like blowing with the wind I lay comatose of the vision that I have seen today with eyes shut, my heart hurts, visions of a future and a past that transformed my very soul a chaotic heart of what might have been disorganized by trying to grasp holding on for dear life ... As I daydream to take the view the wind is gently blowing my life away, as it casts my life into a mold not knowing where I have seen this life before I turn the hands of time to remember what might have been so my soul can soar for the future, but nothing of this life brings to life memories of forever ... So, if not of this life time, is the mystery of my histories of you my past haunts me through every reminiscence we lived or was it age of innocence that only pretends, to hold us together to mold us what we are now, with the hurts that display the tears holds back the soul, to grow and love again ... Maybe through medieval times or the dark days of renaissance we lived, an age innocence that didn't last, that told so much about our thoughts, hearts and tears, so if not of this life time, if not for the memories if not for trusting and pure sweet love, the parting of the wind that gently blow our lives, Dear Darling, this is the day the wind has blown my life ... Brooke