Little wonders

Rob Thomas Lyrics

It is very funny how things change so quickly with time.

I look around and recollect... the things that happened before all swirl and clog into this huge mess of confused emotions. I lost friends... at the same time i gained new ones... I changed, into a more resilient, brooding and self aware individual.

Looking back i was foolish in living my life the way i thought i wanted it to.

Of hard knocks, truth , reality, and inertia

If someone asks me to differentiate between suppression, oppression, impression, depression, compression. It's rather simple.

Every morning i wake up feeling depressed. My emotions suppressed and compressed to it's empirical form of just happy, sad, angry. Oppressed by the same impression others have.

Silence

When Shakespeare (not Gary Oldman ) said that all the world's a stage... and all men and women are merely players, there is some sad truth to that.

In silence we act out our roles, cold unfeeling mimes...

In silence we follow status quo...

In silence we pretend...

In silence we are ignorant...

and it is In silence we feel safe...

We do not say the things that matter---of lost hopes, past friendships, forgotten memories.
nor do we indulge in seeking resolutions...
only delusional desire.

but it is this Silence that makes us deaf.
But everyone is in tune...
and the play continues.

Why are my eyes overflowing
with gushes of sorrow.
The dams could stand no more
of the rushing sloshing onslaught.

A drought’s prayers answered
the cumulonimbus gathers.
A torrential rain,
a torrent of pain.

Can the crops breathe underwater?
In a twirling whirlpool
of the heart.
Sucking o so slowly, o so surely.

The clouds disperse,
the storm subsides
so slowly, so surely.

My emotions drip,
into a filter paper where it becomes

a trickle to a new tomorrow.

The ribcage hurts.
The pounding of the bone
deafening the cackling cracks
that echo into recesses of the body.

Vortex within the lungs,
laconic length of air.
A frantic rush to the shining surface
from beneath the infinity of the sea.

The Compass spins
like a twirling rotor.
The needle is restless
but who can blame it,
for it has rested for a time seemingly eternal.

Naïve to those who believe
in everlasting euphoria,
Things are not made to last.
Wear and Tear, beyond repair.
Repair? Why yes it’s possible.
But remnants of the stiches remain
a scar of the forgotten past.

The Heart beats softly now,
silently….
gently…

The needle of the Compass weakens,
wobbling out
of
its plane.
It loses speed. But it waits.
slowly…
patiently…
To rest in that same direction again.

Who are you stranger?

Who are you stranger?
The one that lurks in the dark crevice of the heart.
Please go… for your presence
awakens memories of a forgotten past.

Your face cracks and dissipates
into a mass of flitting, glittering butterflies.
Its shiny disposition a carriage of my tears,
like distant stars plastered against the twilight.

I clasp my hands gently
onto as many winged memories as I could,
but only to have it disintegrate,
leaving behind my own trickles of sorrow.

This torrential downpour
this torrent of pain,
dividing us into two far off corners.
Separate shelters of our own.

Should I wait? or
Should I go?
The rain does not seem to cease,
pelting un-relentlessly onto the asphalt.

I call out till my throat is hoarse,
but you couldn’t hear,
for the pitter-patter suppressed my whispers
and the roars of thunder drown my screams.

I fevertly brush aside whatever rain I could,
shouting simultaneously, like a crazed maniac.
Hoping my voice would not be crushed by the downpour.
Could you spot them now? My acts of self-less desperation.

I cup my voice within my palms,
gently, tenderly. As I carry it across,
the rain slashing mercilessly at my back.

I am drenched to the bone,
but it is all good. For only then you cannot tell the difference

between my tears and the rain.