Journal WannaBeGeekGirl's Journal: Paper's Crumpled Up Dream 1
Forever
~T.D. Phetteplace
Count not the silence as the herald of my heart.
Speak not of waning love with the absence of my song.
Life's a madman's drama and we each play our part,
knowing not which lines to speak or what is right or wrong.
And as I venture onward, stumbling blindly through the page,
puzzling out the random ways in which the story bends;
I shall always cherish every time up on the stage
and wish a chance to draft a scene with you and I as friends.
For if the play holds tragedy, laughter, tears, or mirth;
the scene will be worth playing if I share the stage with you.
Care not for mortal measure by which we tally worth;
from heaven's highest balcony we'll get our grand reveiw.
And when the curtain closes on my final dying sigh,
I'll welcome the slow dimming of the lights so far above.
For when I say "forever", I think perhaps I lie.
Eternity is much too small a vessel for this love.
{There are dreams we cling to for so long we squash them in the effort to make them ours. For one as sick as me, adding another variable to my complicated equation simply isn't in the stars. Somehow I know this, the way I know the sun will rise tomorrow and the next day too. My heart will always hold that empty place for a lover, a soul-mate that this poem would have been perfect to share with.
I must be crazy, I don't even know what I'm missing, and yet it haunts me deeply, infinitely, eternally.
I hope those that have it never take it for granted.
my heart grieves with each passing day, nothing to fill it ~pf}
~T.D. Phetteplace
Count not the silence as the herald of my heart.
Speak not of waning love with the absence of my song.
Life's a madman's drama and we each play our part,
knowing not which lines to speak or what is right or wrong.
And as I venture onward, stumbling blindly through the page,
puzzling out the random ways in which the story bends;
I shall always cherish every time up on the stage
and wish a chance to draft a scene with you and I as friends.
For if the play holds tragedy, laughter, tears, or mirth;
the scene will be worth playing if I share the stage with you.
Care not for mortal measure by which we tally worth;
from heaven's highest balcony we'll get our grand reveiw.
And when the curtain closes on my final dying sigh,
I'll welcome the slow dimming of the lights so far above.
For when I say "forever", I think perhaps I lie.
Eternity is much too small a vessel for this love.
{There are dreams we cling to for so long we squash them in the effort to make them ours. For one as sick as me, adding another variable to my complicated equation simply isn't in the stars. Somehow I know this, the way I know the sun will rise tomorrow and the next day too. My heart will always hold that empty place for a lover, a soul-mate that this poem would have been perfect to share with.
I must be crazy, I don't even know what I'm missing, and yet it haunts me deeply, infinitely, eternally.
I hope those that have it never take it for granted.
my heart grieves with each passing day, nothing to fill it ~pf}
Forever (Score:2)