there's a fear of me, that when the writer writes he holds his pen above the story telling piece of paper and let's the first couple of drops of emotion drip of the pen and imprint the virgin paper
his emotions all held back and illustrated in the couple of tiny dots of the mark ink and if you place your eyes close enough the ink will touch your eye and you will see,
the night of the singing moon playing his harp waiting for the sun to arise again but she dosen't come but only after he gives up time after time and all hope is gone ... she appears
not sure if she really cares about him, even if she can't see him..
but hes there always and never did he leave .. that's why you can still see the moon even on the most beautiful day where the sun got her pearls out,
but he's too sad to show he's face, that upside down smile because she didn't appear when he was strumming his fingers on the bleeding harp crying out for her..
... and a strike of confusion hits him on the back of his head and his mind goes on a trip,
"you like the clouds don't you? you keep hiding behind them. it's like you're afraid to say something to me.." says the moon.
the reply never came because as again they never met.
so i wonder when this sun of his will creep up behind him and his darkness disapears. his shadow disappears, they look into each others eyes and...
'time will tell' :) so turn the clocks forward till we next meet.
*~~~~~*
"And they might ever understand why I do what I do.
but I can only speak my mind,
and what I feel is true,"