Sunday, May 04, 2008
In spite, I move
Defying wearying disappointments, and dizzying distractions
Pain implores me stop, these aching heartbeats, but my feet feels no earth beneath
How can I stop in midair?
I move with unsatisfied love, unwelcomed, and lost
It is as smoke, teasing, it meanly swirls around my reaching grasp
Then whispers my name; my fate in foreign tongues, an empty fortune
This bate quietly calls my destiny
But how can I breathe in midair?
And where shall I land?