In flames i seek the calm of cold water,
in the outpour of a waterfall... I long for the warmth of a flame.
Cold water is what I call my past,
while my future relates more to a flame.
Night will never be too dark for me,
and niether the sun to bright in a day.
Life will never seem short,
while death will always seem close by.
In rage I seek the answers of my self,
while in peace I feel a life incomplete,
And yet I am but an ordinary man.
And I live but still an ordinary life.
Who am I is what you don t know?
who am I is unknown to me as well?
and yet I exist,
and in what they call Life,
I do more than survive,
through my collection of moments,
They call it but a Day.
A day of what life is all about,
a day which yet is lost in the moments caught within 24 hours of time.
What I write may seem,
far from what you call reason.
But then again... your life,
is no differant from what I say.
In what there is
you seek what you wish for
and in what you want
you hope for what you can't have.
Strange you are
but then,
no strange from who I am.
And thats what makes us one,
ones who are flawed by all we do and think,
ones who yet live on to believe.
What we are is wonderful!
Hope... thus they say is a gift,
and thats what we live by.
But our egos is what we like to wear each day.
For in the poverty of our inner selfs,
we claim to rule the world around us,
and yet each day as we close our eyes,
we know who we are,
we know ... we are still,
a little less than what we see ourselves as.
We are... blind men,
wanting to guide a crowd,
hoping that each journey is through a fog.
