trying to find an answer to chaos
to learn from what the wise men have left behind
that dreams are just that
dreams
people on the streets with their wits stored in their coffee mugs
broken fields of glass
desolate was once blue moving seas
where did it all go?
I swore it was there
some mystifying break from reality
that allowed me freedom
that allowed me to soar
to fly away
and I see it
written on the city walls
cries of pain instead of joy
so now the truth is known
tell me
where did it all go?
imagining a day where I was seen by
him
loved and held with such warmth
is it a sin to still wonder?
is it cruel to say…
shattered
