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We are the author of our own dreams
We struggle
We rise
We fallAnd for a moment, We lay nestled between, Nowhere and Eternity. And it has somehow all been worth it.Such beautiful stories we spin.
Soliloquies softly spoken through the language of the heart.
Translators of things far beyond our knowing.If snow be to our liking
Landslides of tragedy.Emptiness
Befalling us from our loftiest heights
And we are level once again.In great grasping leaps, My soul tries heroically, To break the illusion. Mirrors within mirrors. Somehow the struggle Is all too familiar. Past lives, past years, months, days, secondsGod was right. It burns to know both sides. Fear of too much happiness. The sin of sins.© 2002 Kevin Clous