by the thought of the sky can puzzle even the soundest creature
whistling in waves of thought
I ponder of a world not so bright
why do the tall streams and vines lead us
towards an even greater fall
trust me I see it too
the greys and blues
and how it opens in spite
the journey is not the question
the fall is that of which
and who just might
slipping down
the lengthy road
the higher you go
the less you can know
and the further you will have to fall
an ode to who?
we may never know
the minds inside or the ones that show
the eyes of reflection
or the ones that seem to show deceit
the less I see
the more I hope
the more I hope
the less I’ll grow
time tells a tale the skies cannot record
it stays the same
no matter how many of those
faces look towards the light
how can one thing remain?
as the shining passes
and the worst of the most
propose a thought obscene
maybe the semantics showcase
how the sky
feels
the rumours of the past
bowling balls and lightening
chance that I could breathe
my lungs they could fill for you and me
fall.
by Jaime White