Far Away.

Far away.

Flowing like a river, with colors that don’t fade.

Cold that feels good against your face,

not too shallow, nor sharp as razor blades.

Like souls, yours and mine, flowing at the same pace.

Through my fingers, through intangible space.

Through galaxies, and more,

like fairy tales and folklore.

Like God, and every other solution

name it infatuation, probably just another illusion.

Like or your lover’s warm stare.

like not being here tomorrow,

like not caring, if she’s not there.

Like being one with the wind, and flying on the ground.

Wanting to be lost, just so you could be found.

Like crying for no reason, for more things heard than were said

and the tears flowing down your cheeks, letting you know you’re not yet dead.

Looking for all eternity, and knowing there are more - just destined to come

Holding down to your dreams, because you waiting for the ears that would listen to you hum

And sing and shout, and be one with the wind

Because the wind is what you most relate to

And you fly, to get to heaven, you try

but to die to get to heaven, you want to really hate too.

Like the breathe you take, inside your lover’s mouth

when time stands still, and nothing else can ever matter

when you experience heaven for the first time ever

and realize living or dying, can’t possibly ever matter.

Not again at least, you’ve experienced it a little

so hold on, or carelessly let go

and deny you were ever there

push a rock into the rivers that flow.

Close off your minds, embrace your Gods

and tell yourself love is a lie

but ask yourself and try being honest

would you rather live, or die?

Far Away.