Friday, January 20, 2012

Painted Isolation

No one knows where but somewhere in the sky, I see your image.
In this life, in this isolation. 

Where are you walking to, those legs?
The burning feet. There aren't the roses anymore.
But stones they left.
There aren't the same faces.
The Stranger's land.

Coming through.
like memories coming through.
Coming through, like rays
coming through the patterns of leaves.
Coming through. 

                                      Over that horizon, there is this road I long to walk.

& There is something; sometimes blurred and sometimes focused. Sometime when its focused, my eyes shut down and when its blurred, I die to see them. Over that horizon,,,, babe, that's what.  

Mommy, I miss you when I have to eat sandwiches all the times.
Not liking this ! GRRR 

& I'll be SO lonely again. This painted Isolation. Ahhh. . . .