Think_Dream_Live_Black

Every silent moment longs for the unrequited
Every change in dynamics represents a moment lost
A moment full of silence in which I could have dreamed,
Lost, along with all the other dreams.

Every dream is but a variation of the same moment
Suddenly, when there is a true understanding,
And a sparkle in the eyes of my unrequited
Not a glint which signifies mischief or anger, but a sparkle,
Which means love.

So why must every moment fill me with sadness?
For the emptiness behind the sadness does so
The coldness of reality, which itself causes confusion
Because reality is warm, and is beautiful, and alive

So only when reality does not transpose fantasy
Does its vibrancy become so unwilling and so bleak
When the sparkle in the eyes of my unrequited
Wakes me in a rush to see the world at its darkest and its coldest
In the middle of the night.

But there will always be an unrequited,
Some impossible dream, for if there is nothing
So necessary yet so cruel, then what would we dream?
To dream is to live, but to live is not to dream.

How do we move, do we travel, on this paradox?
Surely if this were true, then we should all be still
As the only sure way would be to neither live nor dream,
And therefore never think, let our conscious souls fade,
Fade to black.

Black, the colour of darkness, considered the colour of nothing,
But by seeing nothing we can therefore see something
To know it as nothing, so how again can this paradox work?
If nothing is something, then something must be nothing.

Is it possible to think too much? Will it mean
That all these thoughts shall lose their meaning
Trapped within the confines of ink and paper? If it does,
Then I shall think about that sparkle, and my other thoughts
Can become yet more lost dreams.

28-03-05