The moon, space and her.

...such a silly thought (again)

These walls feel familiar
Or rather, the fact that there are none
And soul enhancing windows all around,
Make this silly thought come back under the sun.

Grace, determination.
Trust and warmth.
Nervousness and confidence.
Rainy days and calmer storms.

All different sighs
Of an unfinished breath.
Of an improvised orchestra
That will play until death.

To learn to feel we called it.
That goal called happiness.
To go up and admire.
To go down and feel dire.

For it is no goal.
Neither true or real.
It is just to be sure
That you appreciate and endure.

That I understand that I am not pure.
Thoughts might be a little bit obscure.
That there might be no real cure.
For ones who think themselves as immature.

To live fairly and slow.
To want to hold on so tightly.
And yet, still, let go
Of what doesn't let you shine brightly.

This familiar room brings no walls.
Just clear windows all around.
They act as some recently put boundaries
That keep me from breaking down.

Let's add that to happiness
This thing we called our silly thought.
To not fear the feeling inside our boundaries.
To learn, grow and live is what we ought.