Here comes the rain again...
I can feel it, in every sinew, in every nerve.
My heart feels a heaviness and a lightness in the very same breath
The unbearable lightness of being.
This is it.
I'm in love again, I think, and this uncertainty is so delirious...
I want the answers now. I want the ending.
But not at the cost of living the story.
I want it all revealed so that the waves that are life, that wrack my being, subside,
and therefore it must be real.
I didn't think life gave one a chance to feel these feelings again, and again, and yet again... it is forgiving, if you let it be.
It sounds pathetic to think that life rations out moments like these, but it doesn't, we do.
Sometimes fate cracks that coconut of a thickening shell and lets us feel the raw temperature and pulse of life.
And then the dreams that followed. Vivid, real... I've theorized, with conviction, that in order to really be a part of me, someone, or something, has to enter my dreams. I woke up several times, comically dismissing the short narratives my cerebrum had indulged in, as reality, so that it didn't have to be real.
But when the ochre dawn arrived, there was no denying my dreams. What I don't permit myself the luxury of being in a wakened state, my vengeful dreams satiate with gusto.
The rain, my skin. Both seem impossible in the rare October heat and sun, but It's too early to share it with you, to know where it will go, to know if it is.
So someday, for someday,
talk to me like lovers do,
walk with me,
like lovers do,
I want to dive into your ocean
Is it raining with you...?
My heart feels a heaviness and a lightness in the very same breath
The unbearable lightness of being.
This is it.
I'm in love again, I think, and this uncertainty is so delirious...
I want the answers now. I want the ending.
But not at the cost of living the story.
I want it all revealed so that the waves that are life, that wrack my being, subside,
and therefore it must be real.
I didn't think life gave one a chance to feel these feelings again, and again, and yet again... it is forgiving, if you let it be.
It sounds pathetic to think that life rations out moments like these, but it doesn't, we do.
Sometimes fate cracks that coconut of a thickening shell and lets us feel the raw temperature and pulse of life.
And then the dreams that followed. Vivid, real... I've theorized, with conviction, that in order to really be a part of me, someone, or something, has to enter my dreams. I woke up several times, comically dismissing the short narratives my cerebrum had indulged in, as reality, so that it didn't have to be real.
But when the ochre dawn arrived, there was no denying my dreams. What I don't permit myself the luxury of being in a wakened state, my vengeful dreams satiate with gusto.
The rain, my skin. Both seem impossible in the rare October heat and sun, but It's too early to share it with you, to know where it will go, to know if it is.
So someday, for someday,
talk to me like lovers do,
walk with me,
like lovers do,
I want to dive into your ocean
Is it raining with you...?
