Love: A letter to a love yet found.
A letter to a love yet found.
These are the days, fall days; spring days; late summer days we all recognize the day. The world either feels right as rain, or is spiraling out of control. These are the days that remind me of her. This mythical creature whom is clouded from my view by this imaginary creation of human fear. The name of this fear is time. I regress. This future memory, or call it that for yet there be a word to describe the joy and sorrow of events that have yet taken place.
As I sit lonely in my century old manor, listening to the silence being shattered by the wind, and its deviance ability to sneak in between the seams of this tired old house. I listen. Listen for the whispers. A soft spoken word to remind myself that a piece of perfection is just waiting to be discovered. It's at this instant my agony drifts astray and I'm filled with the warm thoughts of what may be.
At the moments the silence is deafening the words of a song sweep through my soul. These simple words are binded to my very being. "Did you ever look, did you ever see that one person, and the subtle way that they do these things and it hurts so much … and it breaks my heart to know that the only reason you are here is to remind me of what I'll never have." These poetic words echo through my waking dreams. Lately though, as if these words were being worn away, the echoes are fading. Moreover are lost to the sounds of giggling. A sweet whisper from her telling me.
You know our love wouldn't be Epic if I didn't toy with you a little. If I didn't let you believe in these silly lyrics. You will find me soon enough, and we can get lost in our journey together forever.
Hearing this rekindles my faith in the grand skeem of destiny.
J.J. Ryvers
(-ff) 10.20.6
These are the days, fall days; spring days; late summer days we all recognize the day. The world either feels right as rain, or is spiraling out of control. These are the days that remind me of her. This mythical creature whom is clouded from my view by this imaginary creation of human fear. The name of this fear is time. I regress. This future memory, or call it that for yet there be a word to describe the joy and sorrow of events that have yet taken place.
As I sit lonely in my century old manor, listening to the silence being shattered by the wind, and its deviance ability to sneak in between the seams of this tired old house. I listen. Listen for the whispers. A soft spoken word to remind myself that a piece of perfection is just waiting to be discovered. It's at this instant my agony drifts astray and I'm filled with the warm thoughts of what may be.
At the moments the silence is deafening the words of a song sweep through my soul. These simple words are binded to my very being. "Did you ever look, did you ever see that one person, and the subtle way that they do these things and it hurts so much … and it breaks my heart to know that the only reason you are here is to remind me of what I'll never have." These poetic words echo through my waking dreams. Lately though, as if these words were being worn away, the echoes are fading. Moreover are lost to the sounds of giggling. A sweet whisper from her telling me.
You know our love wouldn't be Epic if I didn't toy with you a little. If I didn't let you believe in these silly lyrics. You will find me soon enough, and we can get lost in our journey together forever.
Hearing this rekindles my faith in the grand skeem of destiny.
J.J. Ryvers
(-ff) 10.20.6
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