waking up seemed a bit hazy and dreamy as if sleep was not supposed to end. there was plenty of time for strange dreams and long stories and yet, the morning came and i felt the strong need to roll over and drift, again, into that strange dreamworld place that is known to steady mind, heart, and breathing (at times, but not always).
there is something that bothers me and yet i continue to do nothing to redeem myself. i continue in my selfish choices and then wonder why i am sad to find that i have disappointed people. sometimes i think i deceive myself into thinking that i am more important than others and those are low and grey-ly dim times. times of shame and down-turned head and disheartened sighs. if i say i love people, then why do i act as though i love myself so much more? it repulses me and i stagger.
rosie thomas is singing lullabyes to me as i write. her soft piano notes float around in my subconscious every now and then when i forget that i am listening to anything but my fingers typing along on black keys, trying to express something.
what is significance? and what can deem it so?
2 comments:
ponderings of a true ponderer...
Je connais la réalité de son amour. Je sais que le sommeil peut parfois être l'ennemi et autrefois l'ami: il vole notre temps et encore il apporte le repos. Il nous donne des cauchemar et des bons rêves. Il me faut te parler ouvertement et honnêtement, sinon je deviendrai désappointé et ce sera ma faute et mon erreur.
Je t'aime, m'amie! Que Dieu soit avec toi aujourd'hui.
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