whoa....

sorting through my recovered files is like a giant treasure hunt, though I'm not actually looking for something new, just all the old stuff I remember having.

Friday, April 07, 2006

You write. I write. We just write differently.
Walking down an unfamiliar trail
I hear a sound echoing down this long and hollow road
it seems to follow me everywhere I go
I turn right, it follows
I turn left, it does too
I stop and the sound slowly fades into the mist
I proceed thinking, "I've lost it"
But as my feet continue, it gives birth to a sound
The sound of the cold steel from your bullets banging against my wrist

This is the sound of the rolling thunder in the heavens
The low and heavy rumbling of a prodigious event.
A strong, powerful and overwhelming energy,
yet, an energy delicate enough to need specific conditions to be created and maintained.

What I hear,
the deafening sound that surrounds me,
as it floats from my wrists
through the thick and heavy air
seducing my ears
is the sound of you
chasing
after me.

-it's weird how reading something from a time passed brings it all back.
like a whiff of a familiar scent in an unexpected place, it creates a tender moment of honest reflection that could never be duplicated.