Blue-grey clouds bursting,
Tempest, mortals cry— sun shines,
After the downpour.

cicada song--
faint ocean sounds in a shell
while lobsters scream

I am alone here,
in the insanity that is my mind,
in the storm of thought that beat blindness into my eyes,
for you never really know, what there is to see,

All the sudden,
my voice runs dry,
like a lone wolf in the night, who has forgotten how to cry,
and there is no one here to dry these tears,
but myself,
and I have forgotten how my hands work,
yet I sit here and write,
curious in the making I do say,

How do we know what to believe,
for it seems honesty isn't the lastest fashion,
people would rather persuade you with useless distractions,
cycling you to believe what you hear,
never seeing whats really there..

I do say,
I am alone here,
with only this pen,
some paper,
and newborn tears.

Place your head on my shoulder,
let it stay there
and we'll just breathe
together
in
...and... out

Inhale positivity,
exhale negativity-

Pluck the sadness from the air,
unravel that ball of worry...
We'll find that knot
that started it all,
untangle it,
and wave ribbons
in the air

We'll let those colors swirl
around each other,
we'll blend them...
then weave them

into a tapestry

that comforts us
in the end

Doesn't matter
at all
if it turns out
too short

Our lives
are full of tangles
anyway,
a lot of thread
out there...

So place your hand in mine,
let it stay there,
and we'll weave
together
...in
...and.... out...