things moving, grooving, uncontrollably kinetic. the world spins and i sit still, yet constantly turning, rolling with the punches that gravity throws in my face and the tug at my feet, ever constant, ever ready.
all these words, jumbling, bumbling, meaning nothing except the arrangement of random letters in a strange and unfamiliar way, in a different cadence, on a different day. we all get caught up in the rambling tide, the strain of the waves, so uninviting yet beckoning us onward and homeward. i wanted to say it with style, with flair, with the emotional army at my back and the sword of truth in my hand. again, with feeling. and yet all i know is that i am ever marching, ever going, never staying, ever moving.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment