I saw a shining light.
It shined, it shined, it shined so bright.
I could not stand the sight.
Of darkness folding before this light.
A brightness striking deep within.
Dispelling torrents of rage, amen.
A beauty I did not wish to see.
A reflection of something lost in me.
-OM
44.1
My eyes follow the setting sun.
And watch as the sun does run.
From my parting gaze.
No hand to give me parting wave.
I wish for one more moment spent.
A coin less wish, no drop of decent.
And hear an echo in reply.
A whispered answer or sweet, sweet lie.
-OM
44.1
I miss you everyday and wonder what you are doing.
I replay the time we spent together and the warm feeling you gave me.
I wonder who you are with now, who might be loving you.
I sometimes wonder if we’ll ever see one another again.
Are you with someone else? Are you cheating on me!!!
Next time I have $100, I’ll spend it on you.
I miss this bottle of scotch so much…
-OM
One day I’ll look back on my life,
And see how the ink has dried.
What roads I’ve chosen to take,
where stars did not collide.
Everything is everything,
or so they want me to think.
Until it all becomes nothing,
through dreams they speak.
-OM
44.1
Like a sigh of sweat red wine.
A whispered goodbye that never dies.
I feel it like a tap on my shoulder.
A look back I can’t remember.
Chasing happiness with a pen.
Chasing happiness within.
Not knowing the definition.
Only that there’s a destination.
A point I am supposed to reach.
Something no one can teach.
It all ends in a sigh.
As we chase that which can’t be defined.
-OM
44.1
I’ve seen a setting sun.
A sun so bright, I want to run.
Because no one chases the moon.
It always leaves too soon.
I’ve accepted what cannot be met.
A passing feeling of Summer sweat.
That gentle breeze that comes from spring.
A feeling of birth after winter leaves.
It seems to be a circle, full circle.
A motion to release my pent up emotion.
And yet I shed a tear for what is lost.
I cannot place it, like a summer’s frost.
It’s a feeling that’s not meant to be.
A feeling I cannot lose inside of me.
But to truly move past myself.
I must confess I’ve lost myself.
-OM
44.1
