What a thing it would be to ring out our thoughts. Pick them up like dirty clothes off of our bedroom floor. Pile them high like raked leaves in the orange autumn breeze. Why do they fill me now and keep me so dark grey? Go thoughts, go; I wish I could stay. But here I am. It's me and them. My head's so full like the moon that shines on us now. Is your head full too? Full of me and you? Is your head real full or as empty as the Tinman's chest?
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Open Your Mind. 11.17.08
What a thing it would be to ring out our thoughts. Pick them up like dirty clothes off of our bedroom floor. Pile them high like raked leaves in the orange autumn breeze. Why do they fill me now and keep me so dark grey? Go thoughts, go; I wish I could stay. But here I am. It's me and them. My head's so full like the moon that shines on us now. Is your head full too? Full of me and you? Is your head real full or as empty as the Tinman's chest?
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