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The music changes.
The dam before a river of thought breaks.
Emotions, desires and dreams escape down onto yet another page.
A brush stroke on a virgin canvas.
Raindrops in an ocean, they hardly matter.

The things I keep in my heart and in my head are both fluid and concrete, the stones as well as the river.  Some break down as boulders into sand, while others flow onward...

to where, I don't know...
Something I jotted down a while ago. Both the words and they way they're written are a kind of glimpse into my thought process. It's not really long, probably my shortest piece yet, but it was never meant to be anything big. Just another raindrop....

Bah, what do I know, I was drunk when I wrote this....
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Submitted on
February 27, 2009
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