flowers bloom
pick them they wilt
there is nothing left to give
of those beautiful things
known to be true
our lives are ahead of us
our lives are ahead of us
our lives are ahead of us
squander youth
squander today
squander this moment
our lives are ahead of us
forever young
the canvas of life ahead of us
the future forever ahead of us
squander this moment
squander today
we’ve earned a break
our lives are ahead of us
don’t dare look in the mirror
don’t dare notice youth fading
when did it become okay to live a normal life
when did passion become expendable
are lives ahead of us
our lives ahead of us
another night slipped away
another night that didn’t mean anything
our lives ahead of us
are lives ahead of us
life begins with no confusion
clear sighted, far sighted
dreams just steps away
life as a dream
perfection as attainable
remember how you used to be
words raining from your mouth
their holiness unnoticed
the fragrance of poetry from every sparkle of the eye
life as a dream
dreams just steps away
is that really how we thought?
is that really who we were?
when did the fountain run dry?
when did we lose the ability to speak
when did we forget,
all of the poetry of the world
is it still there, all around us?
was it ever even there?
trying again
trying harder
starting again
starting harder
say what it is
say what it really is
make the words bend to emotion
let them lose the staleness of reality
let them be imbued with magic, grace
unreality
let them be imbued with the way the world truly is
a metaphor for the needed spiritual awakening
the continuous river from the bubbling start
through the rapids, meanders, forks,
till then, again, to meet the sea
touching those pretty waterfalls of its youth
just the once
flowing through every bend
just the once
man, us, you, me
these same hands that used to hold a rattle,
now working to buy a rattle,
these same legs once walked these same streets
with people who aren’t here, not as they were
the memories don’t fade
that all happened didn’t it?
does a river remember,
running over every stone
a joke unthought of until that one little moment
and if that moment didn’t happen? That joke? Would it still exist?
how sweet a memory
only after it’s repetition becomes impossible,
only after the memory leaves us,
nothing but a faint imprint that once, something happened
and it was a part of us
but what was it again? was it beautiful?
we simply rush downstream
we rush back to the sea
we spend our one life rushing towards an end
with no real knowledge of why we go there
with no real knowledge if we have to go there
why do we live as lies?
why aren’t we living how we know is right?
ignoring those things that call after our hearts,
that chase our waking minds
whose spirit lives in the closed garden of our structured self perception
why are we convinced that dreams belong just to idle fantasy
truth is our only reality
yet, we give it willingly to benevolent thieves
we allow the false imposition of someone else’s dreams
we do not trust our own hearts to guide us,
we do not trust our own definition of happiness to sate us
we bow to the whims of reality
we walk in a line that was set for us
with no question of climbing the vistas that are on every side
with no question of stopping and stopping and wondering at it all
we walk in a line that we have locked ourselves to
we are scared of our own reality
we are too lazy to chase our own reality
how dare we? how dare we squander precious life?
the only thing worth chasing
the only thing worth trying for
self honesty in every moment
immolate life to a deity greater then judgmental eyes
try, and perhaps fail
try, and perhaps be mocked
try to carve at inner perfection with imperfect tools
there is no true way to create that monolith in your mind
so be it
do not be afraid
create your imperfection
in an imperfect world
an imperfect attempt at chasing perfection
may be the closest we have to perfection
and an honest attempt at obeying the truth in your heart
may be the closest thing to a perfect life
in an imperfect world