Bog

Knowing how to feel, what more is there to know? Knowing how to entertain What must I do to ascertain the feeble heart? Standing at the precipice How I hate this state of confusion I’m in Unraveling from every seam I become the theme we all seem to dream Tasting the salty tear running down my cheek I toss a stone into the creek I refuse to blink To participate in this oblique charade Counting sheep, singing folksy folk songs Hoping, always hoping to find the one I was supposed to meet Nothing is for certain, nothing is set in stone I am one of many in search of meaning Daydreaming, while the world stands screaming Beseeching a God no one knows I know the feeling of frustration, of reckless abandon Yet nothing is as sweet as sweet release The shower’s running, the t.v.’s glowing Sending letters without purpose Writing thoughts with little meaning Sometimes I find myself locked within a dream Questioning: Am I awake? or I'm I dreaming? Hopefully I’ll start to see things clearly Through crystal eyes.