a bed to be made and a bed to lie in...

Part of me feel guilty for not spending this day in quiet remembrance of that Tuesday morning 7 years ago, but I cannot bring myself to do so. We've come so far since that day, and there's something beautiful in that. I cannot pretend that I feel that day anymore than the average person in this society. But, as it did with many, it touched me.

I have the mind of a skeptic and the heart of a child, which often lends me to a kind of self-discerning nature. These two should never meet, for they would certainly kill each other. I see my eyes in your eyes in my eyes, and the skew makes my head spin round like mad. It is time, certainly, to sweep the ashes and let the silence envelop us.

Wars, in themselves, can take many forms, and we have seen many, though not as many as some perhaps. We work our way through this world against the tides of people who would wish to see us fail. I collect my information and I stow it all away, I'm collecting you...all of you. In that I want to know you, understand you and connect with you. Motivation is small to name, and I don't like that smile applied so blindly to me the same as you would to any other just the same. I know better than any other what is happening inside, so why won't you call out to me? I feel the danger and the foolish thrills: oh, yes I will!

What it will or won't be doesn't matter. What is, so stop and look. I guess that you were lonely, that's why you called me on the phone. And in a moment of forgiveness, I didn't want to be alone and I answered. I guess that I was willing, more than I ever was before, to listen. You came knocking at my door again. I woke up smiling last night to realize that they were here, and it's time to come home. I guess I was hoping that you might finally understand, and in a moment of forgiveness that you would reach out and take my hand.

I know you're not one for baring witness or weakness, and I've always said that one wrong move would sell you out; but you've made so many mistakes. I can see now that you've kept your word, and even made it harder than it had to be. I wish I could save us the trouble and give me a little peace of mind. I can't live without you, and you will never realize that, no matter how many times I tell you that. I miss you, I love you, and I want you to come home.

I guess I was hoping that you would finally understand. Take my hand, it's been waiting for years for you to take it.

We talked all night and it came down to nothing. We started a fight that ended in silence and confusion. We're stuck, again, and where do we go from here? We get to decide what we think is no good. We have been sculpted from our youth, and all of this chipping away makes me tired. As for the turth? It seems like we just pick a theory, and thats the one that justifies our daily lives and backs us with quiver and arrows to protect openings. And when the warring begins, how quickly the wide open narrows into the smallness of our deconstruction. Things never really change, and they're the same as they ever were.

The plot is a predictable ending. And though it may seem grand with it's one speck of sand, and back to the hour glass we are going.

Sing to me
Sing me to sleep
Like my mother used to
Old songs long forgotten to time
...
Back when the sky was blue and my mind was clear
Back when simple red lines made sense in this world

Parallel, straight, perfection in chaos

Sing me to sleep, just like she used to
The only thing that makes sense is your song
...
Forgotten words and a song to a child who is now all grown up
When did that happen?
Sing me back to youth
Maybe then, I can be happy