Piano keys trembling,

with high notes of morning

flexing and flying

fingers

like butterflies

landing

full of vigor

where routines run wild

in carefully measured boxes

as the composer

comes closer

to inspiration.

His breath is like the ocean breeze

whispering

to boring rocks

Do I obliterate myself?

old times, belong in the past

I don’t recognize myself.

I’m searching for something

I cannot find

in an all too familiar city

I’ve plundered my insides

because the wealth has long-since been looted

amongst neighborhoods and streetlights

even the cats are fat

but they don’t feel full

the world is not here

it exists somewhere, out there

I wish I could find it, amongst family, friends, and loved ones

amongst the song inside myself

but the truth is hidden behind curtains of fear

and the stage is set behind the unknown

It takes courage

to pull the veil

on ugliness

and beauty

It takes courage to explore

deep in the dark

and leap

where the song won’t be able to repeat

If the artist does not leave the page

he will retrace the lines on a worn face

that does not smile or frown

Stones, are seldom thrown, very far.

4 thoughts on “Stones, are seldom thrown, very far.

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