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and these pages keep turning and turning, the pen evenly marching on, in its single file journey, to where no one knows, towards one destination, out not to any particular hearts. Perhaps these words die here, perhaps they will reappear, if some one picks them up and is willing to hear
well the lights all go down and the people are quiet, they\\\'re all searching for that something, a love that wont requit
searching for that meaning thats beyond what can be defined
so they close their eyes.
and i close my tired eyes, these tired eyes that see images dancing, whirling back and forth on those all but opaque lids. colors, lights, lovers lost and dreams realized run around in my dreams, ever persistant to find their home at the end of my tongue, the tips of my fingers.
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A Dream
