It gets late
all the time,
I wonder why.
Wish I would
close my eyes
the first time
the thought comes to mind.
But this vacuum is deep
and I get stuck in it.
Wasting time,
I am waiting on him.
Sometimes just daydreaming
instead of just dreaming,
Like I'm supposed to
cause it's night
and that's what you do.
And then I freak out,
it's late,
I still have to do that today.
I look at the clock
then away.
I'm not supposed to be awake.
I won't be doing that thing
It's too late.
I get ready for bed
But things jump in my way
And everything looks inviting
A guitar, a book, an empty page.
it's like they're waiting
a response to their calling.
And sometimes I do.
Sometimes, like now,
I'm ignoring my mind
that's trying to get me to do
the thing I know that is good.
And I listen to that spark
that wants to get out in the dark,
shine a light all on its own,
to become one with the unknown.
Unknown - unless..
There's someone just like you
Who finds the way to here,
brave enough to come near,
Who sees that little spark
shining in the dark,
Who takes the time to listen
all that it has to say,
Who understands the meaning
of doing things today.
Is anything on Earth
less certain than tomorrow?
Is anything we value
less than this precious thing?
We think it's always there,
it's ours every day.
But that's not true,
And someday...
Tomorrow will not be.
So take some time to think
that every single blink
could be the last of them.
Spend your time with care
And on your final day
You'll be ready to go,
cause you'll have finished the show.
.
.
.
Okay, sooo... this is kind of a weird poem. I wrote it way too late in the night and all in one sitting, without refining it much. It's just thoughts poured out in rhyming lines format :)
| written in April 2017