A highly unfinished, unedited rough draft.
Distraught, this thought,
All of these these thoughts.
There are galaxies spinning inside my mind
Beautiful worlds spinning round burning stars
Perfect thoughts formed around simple words.
So distant, so far out of reach,
These worlds and words.
The key to my starship is locked
In an old box buried deep underground,
Alongside my voice.
I’ll never reach the stars.
There aren’t enough paper clips
And pieces of bubble gum in the world
To make my ship fly again.
But maybe, just maybe one day I’ll find
The strength to dig up that box
To take back my voice, buried under
The sands and the scattered debris
Left by the hands of time.
Maybe your hands will guide mine
Maybe they’ll give me the shovel,
Show me how to remove the cracked earth
And cast it aside, to come to rest away from me and my hole
Always sitting in the corner of my eye
And my mind.
Maybe you’ll help me chew the gum
And collect the paper clips,
Give me plans and tools for a makeshift boat
To sail across the deep blue skies
Or maybe, you’ll guide not my hands-
But my heart. Maybe you’ll show me
How to rebuild,
How to make for myself a new voice.
A stronger, more honest, more loving,
More confident voice.
Or you could choose not to.
You could leave me here.
You could go on your way, leaving
Nothing but a little debris of your own
To rest nicely above my box.
The box with the keys to distant worlds and stars,
The voice for distant thoughts and words.
3/30/2013, 2:03 am