Speechless.
Like a painted face I sit here,
and I hide within attempt,
but my movements are not true,
they reveal not my intent.
I mean the truth,
but say the lie.
Somehow this has brought me here...
Wondering if words can be so twisted,
then of course it is true:
So
Can
I.
But it seems this does not matter,
for there is more than my image I should concern,
more than my painted reflection I should view.
There is more that I should listen,
but my soul fears this much is true
as well:
Attempts are all the glory,
but intent is all the rest.
Intent Is the Sun,
Intent Is the Moon.
Where misery accompanies there is intent to fly hi-gher
and where joys so often blooms,
there is intent to crash
and burn.
And this as well,
is true of you...
It is more than my painted squire I fear
that i should sing a song.
But the mistress of the heavens,
she declared there I do not belong.
Though I dream of walking on clouds and singing
angel-ic songs,
I know better than to venture there
I know better than go where I ought not long.
My intent is to be happy,
and my attempts do not show this,
that much is true...
but if your intent is to reach the heavens,
you know what you must do...
It is not merely reflections you must concern,
you see the tangible reality
has so much more that you can learn.
Beautiful words that mean many things,
understand them,
so not confuse them,
This song I sing has to sides:
One that is wrong,
one that is right.
One declares that intent matters
regardless of actions,
regardless of time.
While the other song promises,
without the action there is nothing there...
Reflected my happiness,
but sung out in sorrow.
Dear reflection, which do you choose to view?
Yet....
I am still
Speechless.....
~I wish I could explain. but explanations leave little for a brilliant mind to discover and too much for a simple mind to endure.
