Some days filled with the melancholy; slowly brewing inside us every where. There seemed to be no end in sight for the task at hand; and we all felt down in the trash. Besides who is there to help us reclaim our inner strength.
Some days just feel like they will never end.
Travelling to the dimension far away from mundane designs. To a place not an escape; but truly a marvelous architecture locked somewhere deep in time. Inside we find the fine tuned reality expressed as music as melody, and we just become melted to the ground alive.
Some days just become transcendence from time.
Perched on the rightful view; the view be fitting your dreamy blues, you know what the trouble with morrow is? Morrow will never be the view which you sought in the first place. Instead you keep your eyes fixed on plain sight; and what a wonderful dance that overtakes everything in place. Sweeps you off your feet with the gentle embrace. Some views they remain stolen in memory; beating with the heartbeat. Surely to repeat in another life.
Some days just call on love to take the drivers seat; in glee, let's go for a ride!
The path tumbles over there; it meanders like a snake on to eat the sun's radiating glare. It is like what I felt the first day; when i see you over and over; i fall unto grace. A sensual dip in life's gift of the pools that are your sweeping eyes. The end complete personified so exotically at the nape of your neck. In sweet gestures and long embraces. The life's little secrets swept away. Some days just go on to a violent crazy night!!
Wicked vixens riding their broomsticks past midnight; they leap and jump in violent frenzy across the midnight city. Sweltering in its gluttony; looking past to end it seems, but the heart wanders.. slow and surefooted. In the narrow alley ways, that haunt and loom endlessly in the mind. Some days are just spent in morbid fascination of life's silent sighs.
Caroline; that sound. Sounds of the winter hound; past our door inside our house. Fear and fixture at exact moment; never lasts. Listen closer; they are in the house. The demon of winter past; and the craziness abound. In my numbness and your sobriety. The child of mixed colors takes to task; Seems like some days when you least expect it; death leaps up to finish your life in a blow. Leaping like a silver toad.
So some days its the serpents hiss and some days your beloved's kiss. Stark contrast to what was and what is.
True it is that special feeling, something which is unlike another that makes us who we are. But who we are; is simply the product of some days in the making.