Thursday, August 30, 2007

Open Your Eyes

I know who you are, yes the one sitting just there
I’ve seen that expression in the reflection of my mirror
I know where you’re going and I know where you’ve been
I’ve seen what you saw and I heard way back when

Open your eyes
Look up at me
I’m here to help you out
‘Cuz even I can see
That you’re drowning
You’re falling
And falling down

All those demons you hear now and all the ones soon to come
The tickle in your ear stabs and beats a great big drum
We’re cosmically bound by experiences old and new
It’s a rough life but it’s ok because you can make it through

Open your eyes
Look up at me
I’m here to help you out
‘Cuz even I can see
That you’re drowning
You’re falling
And falling down

these are lyrics i wrote. i also wrote a guitar part.

Thursday, August 02, 2007

Rings and Things

Small, pudgy, hands warm and soft caress the diamond ring encircling a long and graceful finger. The mother’s hands are calloused with life yet are timeless and enchanting. Perfect nails grace the slender fingers without a stitch of royal frailty though they are not without elegance. Back and forth, back and forth the rocking motion comforts peacefully. The fingers glide through fluffy yellow curls as she whispers and holds the little girl near. The warm body snuggles closer while still stroking the ring her father had placed there not so very long ago.
The cold metal fascinates the girl. Drowning in its swirls and sparkles, her blue eyes widen at its beauty. Tiny mirrors wink up at her from the surface of the diamond telling her its time to close her eyes. Back and forth, back and forth the squeaking chair begs rest. Sleep little one, mother croons and kisses downy hair. Many days will pass and many years fly by but stamped forever in time will this moment be. In mere days both lives will change, one for better and one for worse. One will walk with angels, the other to a grave. Back and forth, back and forth peace now reigns within.
I am the mother whose strong hands soften at her daughter’s touch, this daughter she loves more than life itself and knows she must let go of. I am the daughter who cuddles up to her mother in safety and contentment and will soon cuddle with a Lamb. I am the ring on her hand watching them both and that is petted by the child whose hand I will never rest upon. I am the chair that creeks back and forth, back and forth holding them in a nest that will soon be empty. I am telling their story so all may see this wonderful sight and know of life and love. I am this moment, and this moment is me. I am, I always have been, and I always will be nestled in this moment of eternity.