Untitled Story

A Sweet Passion made only in the dark

how can I be sure that your real;

Head in hand from an untitled story

You know how it drives me insane;

What is real when promises and verses are enchantingly spoken neath a silver sun,

Obscurely lurid; my Silver spring, it’s all too much;

In a small world it would be so easy to surrender,

When in the look of an eye everything is still beholden;

You know where everything still stands, in streams of time

But don’t ever forget the thunder

And when small eyes first see an undying never ending sky…

Winds carry a man so easy,

makes no difference where I am,

Even more so when I am not watching nor waiting;

The heart whispers, and sings old forgotten songs

that are forever beyond their horizons

and the morning thunder snatches your soul away in a song

High above and inwardly through wine dark ocean seas, it’s always darkly backwards

When you don’t know what to do with yourself

search your soul and find out

before your heart begins again in another story