Love that’s lost,
Like painting a picture In the dark.
Art at what cost?
The colors can’t be seen,
Yet the picture is vivid.
Racing through this maze with a blindfold.
Hoping your voice will carry me home.
Home is where the heart lays,
On a bed of clouds softer than cotton candy.
An adolescent crave,
first created in the sandbox next to the swings.
Laughter heard as two hearts race in the wind.
Where have we gone?
Where have we been?
Holding onto what’s lost,
Like a string with no balloon.
Lungs lack substance,
In the presence of a Goddess.
Or mere affatuation for perfection.
The maze seems infinite,
The voice can no longer be heard.
Yet so many faces to be seen.
Like a book filled with pages,
Waldo is what we seek.
Clear out a definitive path,
To help chase what we seek.
No longer abiding by the status quo.
No longer chained by uncertainty.
To hold, to touch, to love, to NEED.
When the pages go dark,
We all hope that we’re guided by the flames.
Flames yielded by an untamed fire.
As we watch the wind carry the ashes,
The stars shine bright in the sky…
Desire burning deeply within,
So deep…beyond the naked eye.