Perspective

Lost in many thoughts about the world around me;

My life, my day, my job, my friends…

When really these things aren’t mine

But play a part on a much bigger stage

Than the boards of my heart.

Blinded by tunnel vision that tells me everything takes place in relation to me;

That the way I see it is the way it really is…

When really these things aren’t mine

But are living details on a much bigger scale

Than the canvas of my mind.

Wrapped up in minor details of day-to-day life;

Critically analysing my storylines, or lack thereof…

When really these things aren’t mine

But my ‘once’ is upon a more infinitesimal time

Than that of the greatest story ever told.

It is not that I am unimportant,

But rather that I am not The Importance.

A True Story (poetic license aside…)

He watched her from across the room
And knew he was undone.
He’d tried to build a barrier,
But all resolve was gone.
He felt laid bare for all to see;
He wasn’t in control;
The heart he’d tried to keep himself
Was no longer his own.

He stole a sideward glance at her,
Wiped off his sweaty palms
And checked his watch about the millionth time.
The night was nearly over
But not a word was said
Of the twisting turmoil
That was filling up his head.
For years it had been brewing,
This exquisite sort of pain,
But now he knew his secret could simply not remain
Unsaid.

She, smiling, turned to say goodbye –
His tongue had turned to dust;
He weakly raised his hand to wave
Goodbye to all his love.
But as she walked into the night
His heart would not stay still
But propelled his legs into the dark
And hammered on until
He spoke her name…
She turned around;
Looked into his eyes,
He swallowed fear
Then spoke his love
And boldly said:
“Be mine?”

When it had started he didn’t know
Nor how it all would end;
He only knew he wanted
To be so much more than friends.
He knew she might say no
And that word would break his heart;
But he couldn’t bear not knowing anymore.