What falls through the cracks
Are the bits we should pick up and observe
A glimpse only in a reflection of a mirror
A slightest sigh between words almost not spoken
These are the half-lives we always must lead
That we can’t fully take it all in,
That we never know what was around the corner we turned
How memories compress into what we consider meaningful
Leaping like does through our field,
Our thoughts constantly racing to some future
Promising to be brighter, Brighter in some new Sun
That will lighten our Tropic in some new way…
What falls through the cracks
Are the realizations of the hopes we dream of
The realities that can change lives Now, this instant,
Gleaming like embers in a dying fire on a distant hill.
When I was a boy, I played outside in the yard
In the dirt, knees scraped by brambles I ran through
Blood seeping down the ankles to form tiny clots
And healing immediately.
I didn’t reflect on what I did, but experienced life in the fullest
My very body propelling me forward into uncertainty I knew as certain.
What a golden age to return to, the unconscious youth-years ago
When the lifeblood was rushing through to the very bones.
This is what falls through the cracks,
That if we just pause but a moment to drink in a drop more,
That quiet drop that rings between the finger and the wine glass,
We truly can melt into that same harmony, the rings of singing fingers
And the songs of the ancient spheres…
That sounded before birth, now drowned out by our comings and goings…
O that that song would sing on it’s own…
Are the bits we should pick up and observe
A glimpse only in a reflection of a mirror
A slightest sigh between words almost not spoken
These are the half-lives we always must lead
That we can’t fully take it all in,
That we never know what was around the corner we turned
How memories compress into what we consider meaningful
Leaping like does through our field,
Our thoughts constantly racing to some future
Promising to be brighter, Brighter in some new Sun
That will lighten our Tropic in some new way…
What falls through the cracks
Are the realizations of the hopes we dream of
The realities that can change lives Now, this instant,
Gleaming like embers in a dying fire on a distant hill.
When I was a boy, I played outside in the yard
In the dirt, knees scraped by brambles I ran through
Blood seeping down the ankles to form tiny clots
And healing immediately.
I didn’t reflect on what I did, but experienced life in the fullest
My very body propelling me forward into uncertainty I knew as certain.
What a golden age to return to, the unconscious youth-years ago
When the lifeblood was rushing through to the very bones.
This is what falls through the cracks,
That if we just pause but a moment to drink in a drop more,
That quiet drop that rings between the finger and the wine glass,
We truly can melt into that same harmony, the rings of singing fingers
And the songs of the ancient spheres…
That sounded before birth, now drowned out by our comings and goings…
O that that song would sing on it’s own…
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