i wish i could say the words come to me,
as if i was evan of august rush.
but they don't blaze through my soul
like music graced with passionate desire.
my whole heart bleeds to know this world is alive;
my body trembles to feel I'm alive
do you come to know me?
do you come to pick my mind?
do you want to know me-
to find out I'm insanely mundane?
or do you come to judge me?
to presume knowledge based on words
is like reading a chapter of one book
without knowing that chapter was cut-
edited out for more noteworthy work.
the river glitters in filament light.
somehow, its ripples aren't sad.
I think it's possible to obtain
a greater perhaps than our chance,
but how do we break free of the mundanity?
Do we choose our combined humanity?