I guess the hardest part right now is finding out where I belong to. I have absolutely no idea how the tables turned, how i stand here with my feet barely touching the ground. I was overachieving for a future beyond comprehension and now what? I am so lost for words. lost for emotions and visuals of this out come. A foundation made out of strong cement and rough paneling; where are the fruits of that labor? i just don't know anymore.
what anything means;
what love feels like,
kisses taste like,
blissfulness smells like,
I suppose its safe to say;
i lost all direction .
The musician uses silence to give birth to his/her art, the poet a blank page...the painter a canvas, a wall, the actor a stage.
ReplyDeleteSo what's this mean? Well, a blank page gives no direction yet the poet creates one...He or she designs the world and becomes a magician.
Often nothingness, intimidating as it is, yields the greatest of works. You can write over white, you can't write over black! It's connecting with that courage to pick up your pen (or paintbrush) and start creating! It's a process. Everything's a process! Anyways, I'm typing an essay.
Just how I see it. :)