Starting with statements to catch your attention,
Keeping your focus to the curiosity of my amazement,
Listening is nothing more to us than word retention,
So fear not a conversation,
Our interaction may only last a moment –
And by the fall of a sentence on deaf ears,
Deaf ears may have fallen silent to sound.
Calculating what is,
Is no more challenging than the way in which the brain sets the pieces,
And if the puzzle suits our needs,
We are free to piece together scenes as we please,
Now with this motion I state this,
If honour killed the Samurai,
Beauty killed the butterfly,
Where words do damage a smile with hidden intention can burn skies,
For deception can be hidden far beneath the truth of any eye.
If beauty controls the hearts of men,
My feet may be planted firmly within the floor,
Yet should she choose that I will run no more,
Let me fly,
Knowing finding my feet will burden me never more,
But for a second within a moment let yourself dream,
That maybe there is more to life than what we shall see,
Or have seen of colours,
As colours change from concept to scene.
If I held the strength to part mountains,
And form paths between the sea,
Overwhelming thoughts would hold no force over me,
Constant contemplation would be put aside,
And space would be made for my heart to find,
A way to connect to thought,
For if I must think so far beyond a single curious moment,
By passion I should not be bound.
If in the end all I own are my words,
Then I will bare then across my chest until the final sight of the moon,
With ink settled on skin like oil on water,
These words will stay a testimony to every spoken statement,
But should I fade too soon,
For the world to catch me,
Then by your tongue hold favour upon my name.
I only wish you’d open your eyes to see,
Past what they say and what is said by or about me,
For eyes may distract from the truth,
And views may serve as the sun upon a lie,
A rose tinted confusion of possibilities,
And if a lie can be written into an unseen moment,
Or unspoken word,
The truth in its true form may form something that seems so absurd,
Though we take these scriptures as words written by the sky,
Bestowed upon man as an answer for questions of why,
Only our hearts may know what is,
Where our eyes show what we want.
We could speak forever and let the wind share our words,
We could revel in what ifs and consider pain without hurt,
Or we could dream and see colours bleed into the sky,
And find a new world that is confused,
Without asking why,
Our colours could come together in ways we choose,
Across the spectrum in ways that pierce the eye,
No more will rain fall grey,
Or grass grow green under blue skies each day,
Red will run through the world with pieces of gold,
And even as we grow and fall beneath the stars when we’re old,
Purple and Yellow will run through the air,
And what odds once worked against us will turn fair.
Solum 