Unfamiliar, Unexplored.

24 Jan

I’m still reaching out for the stars I can’t see on my own,
But the dim glow of blue in the shade of the moon keeps me still,

And the Earth is still turning while I’m stuck here learning to fly;
As my eyes refuse to open wide.

Wide awake, counting quarters, and dimes, and every bit of change in my life
Just to find myself in snow, where the lights of home are gone, miles away.

Now holding onto my breath to reach the other wall,
Oh, I never would have guessed that every leaf would fall
To surround every building that I have ever known,
Forcing each splitting pathway to finalize its choice.
No, I didn’t have a choice.

Now my eyes are stuck open, and I don’t know where I’ve been.
The lights don’t get much greener, but should I run or stand still right here?

And how could I have ever known
That the waves of the ocean were patiently waiting for me
To mistake seemingly calm, blue-green waters as somewhere that’s safe.
It’s a lie.
Please don’t lie, ’cause the sounds of my strings surely won’t,
And the kids always swear that they don’t, but I can’t tell.

That final jump was home.
I’m still learning to control the shades of my lines,
But the silence of the snow still eludes me,

So I pray that my eyes will learn to see through the dark,
And the cold, chilling silence won’t tear me apart, inside-out.
I swear, I’ll change.
Don’t forget every step that I’ve made on the way,
‘Cause I’m here now.


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