looking...
searching....
for such words.
In the blankness of your mind.
looking through each thought,
searching for an idea that sparks.
feeling...
thinking...
but nothing.
just the blankness of your mind.
oh you wish,
to feel,
to feel the sensation run throughout your veins, just by the imagery.
and so,
words cant explain the true beauty,
the elegance,
the enchantment of each word,
positioned in line,
in perfection.
a dream,
nothing more than a dream.
to possess the mind.
though time is running out,
and so,
words cant explain the true beauty,
the eloquence of it all.
and so,
and ever more,
and once again,
time is running short,
groping...
frantic....
for words that can never fumble its way out,
as if choking,
spitting out each,
one by one.
creating a line,
a mire sentence,
explaining nothing more than the title,
and here it goes,
the start of a new creation,
a new page,
flipped over,
again,
and again,
again,
and again,
until you hit rock bottom,
the last,
the ultimate,
and final page in the works.
to feel,
to think,
such wonders to make,
hearing the echos of faint letters,
humming and drumming,
together,
into one,
wishing and wanting,
waiting and withering,
whithering,
wishing,
wanting,
and waiting.