Words Are Sometimes Cumbersome

Let us make promises to one another, with waiting touch to be made. A man can never be certain of the silence if the silence is impossible to touch. Floods may come and floods may go; either way the trees will grow much as always. Eyes may travel from left to right but nothing firm can be determined until a vision waiting begins to turn into reality arrived. Nowhere will you find the minutes of life replayed. Once it is gone, it is gone and to realize this is the beginning of wisdom. In the air stands music, playing some sort of odd bit of song. A man must sometimes stop and listen to the melody of his mind. Words are sometimes cumbersome; and passion is often something defined but not felt. All in all, what is to happen will do so regardless of what you may want. Stand at attention, the flag is raised. And in agreement we find ourselves drinking bottles of sherry in the dark.