Stepping stones have kept us here.
We walk the path before us.
The memories of yesteryear push us slowly,
And control us.
I’m the painting on the wall.
The book never opened;
The glint of reflection as you pass a window.
I’m dreams for some reason left unspoken.
I’m here for you.
When you stray from the path given.
I’m here to show you something new.
Waiting to fix the stones that become unwoven.
I’m the little ray of sunlight on your face as you awaken.
I’m the unconscious meaning.
With my own steps that will never be taken,
With my own meaning unopened.
pathways
- March 28, 2010
- deftonesgirl
- 1 Comment
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