Love is for me

A roaring laughter,

A voice so loud it would

make the whole world deaf

I think it's what love is for me

I think that's what love is for me

and you answer me right away

'I want to laugh with you'

You ask me for a word stronger than love

and I answer you right away

'You'

wild eyes

I can see all these things when I close my eyes.

When I open up I can see

hearts landing at my feet.

light coming from your hands.

Your fingertips reach

I can see all these things when I close my eyes.

I have received my heart now

I have opened it for all to see

Hands have held mine now

You smile when you bow to me

and I just stand there

Hearts landing at my feet

You smile when you bow to me

and I accept

all I ever was offered in this heart

in this light

in this waking

growing

I can see all these things when I close my eyes

Opened up the light shines.

Later, when I get back home there's a scent of roses everywhere,

♡♡♡

[thank you Kagrra,♡♡♡]

Sunkissed

even when it rains.

I take the steps and walk along.

Spreading my arms I can do nothing but smile.

That light there.

This light here.

Green leaves tangled,

flowers opened.

Clouds leaving rain,

wind bringing song.

Beyond all is the blue of sky.

Beyond all is the gold of light.

The air calls for flying.

The waves call for diving.

New shores waiting,

roses in the evening.

A new morning arrives embracing the old, the new.

This is what we are.

What we look at...

Do we see things as if in a different world?

Do we see things as if in another reality?

Where is my reality if I look out and see something that is half a world in another direction?

Am I real here, or wherever I feel I roam?

Is there a reflection of me wherever my thoughts are wandering?

That light there is the sun.

That light there is the same sun that I see here.

That there is the same sun that will rise here after it's climbed up there.

This here.

sometimes when I sleep

Sometimes I listen to music not only when awake

Sometimes I listen to music when asleep

Sometimes I listen to music when waking up.

Today, after seeing the sun over Tokyo

Today, after seeing the sheer rays of a glowing sun

Today, after looking at the sky both there, and here

I slept again

and listened

and sometimes when I'm sleeping to music,

I am embraced

Warm and loved

I can hear all the smiles that voice has ever been

I can feel all the love that voice has ever spelled

Today I was embraced in my sleep

Are you okay, they ask.

I am now.

I am now.

I am now.

I am now.

Yes.

I can see the night sky over Tokyo, I can see there are lights. There are stars.

Here and there, I am embraced.

noir noir neo Noir

I can see through that solid blue

I lift my voice to my lips and taste carefully

I open up carefully

Nothing is to crash against the back of my teeth

Nothing is to crash against my closed lips

I can see through that bound black

I move my eyes to all the sights and look carefully

I watch carefully

Nothing is to stay unseen because of closing lids of blinking eyes

Nothing is to remain unseen because of eyes turned away

I can feel through my skin

I can feel

through my skin

noir noir Neo noir

Sayonara is a harsh word, but not when being said together.

again, for whenever

If it is an evening when the red of roses blushes stronger than before

If it is a night when the rain falls harder than before

If it is a morning when you are greeting the dawn

If it is a day for visiting Houses of Summer

Yawn at the rising sun, the moon is filling up, see it there, a bit to the right, white and pale in the blue sky, as blue as it ever was

For a 'Welcome unto us', I believe that was a thought just shared.

Did it sparkle clearly for you too?

The scent on the air is a promise well kept

I knew this would happen but I was in doubt

The brakes were hit on too fast

Jammed

burned

and you can smell it too, I know that

Air-conditioning takes us away

sweeps us off our feet

Sitting in our tiny seats

This high up I begin to wonder

Why take another step back down?

Why prepare for what I don’t know?

Why trust only that there is trust,

why trust only to trust?

My head was weighed down,

my throat hurts some

what of all the smoke

All the burning

There’s soot on the window,

maybe ash in the air

There’s smoke in the wind,

I try not to breathe.

My teeth creak of all the dust caught between them

Then there were flames

said voice to my heart

is it the snowfall?

is it the grey morning?

is it the rain?

is it the sky angled?

is it the world turning under my feet?

Is it the oceans?

Is it the princess that doesn't sleep?

Is it the roses?

Said voice to my heart

is it the frozen night?

is it the loss?

is it the living?

Wrote hand in my heart

It is the light in your fingertips

It is the life in your hands

Held hand for my hand.

swiftly, silently

as expected

Realization comes along, grabs me by the elbow

I'm pulled away from where I'm going and I try to catch up,

half walking, half running, half laughing, half falling

This is where we're going.

I'm pulled in another way of going

Here is where we're headed

We could braid our hair together

We could align our spines

We could stand taller than each other

We should really get a few steps to lead up to this stage

Let's build the stage to stand on

Let's turn the lights in our direction

Let's build the instrument we want to play

Let's practice the voices we want to hear

Storm strikes in the early morning

The birds now quiet, the earth silent in a breath,

waiting

wait

Wait,

I once beckoned you to wait

I once was unsure of your strength, mistaking what I saw for what was

Let's not wait

Here is where we're going

You won't be up on my wall

I won't wait for another moment

I won't stand tired in my steps

I won't run down, I won't run down that street that craves wrath to burn a fire

Here is where we're going

This is what we are

for today, whenever

the stairs I walk

What I fear the most, stares

I keep taking step after step and I see the jesters have arrived

My family is waiting, waiting, watching, waiting

Is that daughter ever to arrive?

A sigh in the rooms flooded with light suggests that there are different times making their way up the courtyard

There are long nails slipping over the keyboard and what I really fear the most are stares

I keep skipping step after step and the jesters arrived I can't but look away,

cheeks red like the mock-cheeks on their white faces

I walk up the stairs, I hang on to the rail

I am up on the roof and the sky is blue with clouds small and white and fearless and cheerful

but this is too high up for me, I have agreed to climb too high up

I lie down, press myself against the gravel

When did I agree, did I agree

There's a sigh in the sunlit beauty of daytime and it is now suggested that agreeing to these heights are not supposed to be taken easily

This is not something to play around with

This is not something to laugh at

I am not the jester

I am not the sister

I am not the man of the house

I am not the man of this house

I am not the maiden, cried

These stairs are not there for my despair

These stairs are not here for my steps

I never

not even once

I didn't think I could turn

The only way is up that way

The only way is against the tide

The only way is those stairs

The jesters have arrived.

.

.

.

.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N9wPK4GytLk&feature=related

.

the emerald green

reflected in my eyes does not tell stories.

the grey stripes

of a cat black and white does not tell lies.

the hunger

growling deep down does not keep quiet.

the sleep

crawling up close behind does not ask permission.

the voice

I know is not a fairytale sings silently the words I need

the voice

I know is not a fairytale makes sure to pronounce so I understand

the voice

I know is not a fairytale makes me sing without asking

I sing to you

as you sing to me

I sing for you

as you sing for me

My feet feel like walking

My hands feel like playing

My voice feels like whispering

The voice I know is not a fairytale,

tell me more

universes together

I look forward to seeing the sun
I look forward to seeing what all I'll become

I look forward to looking in to the sun,
even further
even closer

I look forward to all I'll become
I look forward to seeing what all I've done


I see wings of a butterfly right in front of my eyes
golden lines
and yellow light


I look forward into the sun

I look forward to seeing the sun
shine further through me
I look forward to shining a sun

I look forward to see what all I'll become

I look forward into the sun

If westward is where you are, it's not west, is it

I’m reading so much about myself, is this really me?

All my associates they all seem to be 2-D

I use other people

I only take them for what I need

Looking at this broken image,

I doubt I’ll ever see

All my wishes be true

since all my associates really all seem to be 2-D

my hands now shaken, coffee bitter and cold

my thoughts now deepen, I should learn and let go

Looking now, looking now

My chart is telling me I’m the trouble all are to face

My charms keep telling you I’m all right, I’m the best

It’s said all I have to do is ask

and all I need will arrive

How can I ask,

when I can’t tell the difference between humility and pride,

selfishness and real light

If I go to the east, I’ll lock myself inside

I look around in consent

I refuse to cry, be this pain or despair

And all this my asking if I’m allowed,

is it just a step towards an ending far from the rest?

Here as I’m told all I understand means nothing for another

I can’t help but think that there must be another

But here as I’m told

I use other people

I only take them for what I need

Looking at this broken image,

I doubt I’ll ever see

All my wishes be true

still all my associates really all seem to be 2-D

created by another mind

the mind out of reach, all I have is what’s left behind

images

images

so all my associates really all seem to be 2-D

Love story

I would like to read a love story

I would love a love story

I would love one, I guess

A love story – is that a story about love?

Is that a story about my love?

About the love I have to give and the love I receive unasked.

A real love story, for me it would be about the colour of love

My heart and body, mind and spirit.

In a love story I want to find only myself.

No situations where I must act upon something imposed;

no situations where I must ask or think intensely before I say.

A love story to me is finding myself standing out in the middle of a field,

the wind not caring to see a difference in running through the long strands of grass or my hair.

A love story to me is filling my breath with a wind that brings a salty breeze.

A love story to me is standing on a frozen ground, laughing out at all the stars and the moon and lights I see move on a dark, dark sky.

A love story to me is feeling I shine like a rainbow in sunlight hazy with rain.

A love story to me is feeling the warm bark of trees stood still.

A love story to me is watching the clouds, knowing that there might not be another being right there who is seeing what I am seeing.

A love story to me is feeling.

A love story to me,

is a story of love.

The voices I hear,

are the voices that surge deep down to rip open my silence

The voices I welcome,
are the voices that push in and pull out all tears that want to stay dry

The voices I listen to,
are the ones that know they are finally saying something,
they hope they are being heard although they know it doesn't matter

As long as I use my voice I know I am doing what I should
If no one hears me there is not much I can do

As long as I say something I know I am doing what I should
Being heard is not the same as being told


For your tears to leave you... are you afraid of being alone?
Do you want everything to cling onto you, for the sake of not being alone?
Are you prepared to keep your voice a secret, in the case of having something you want to say?

Are you afraid of finally being heard?

Looking for a constellation

As if shouting out in the words of someone else would make the awaited difference.

As if what an other once expressed would be connected directly to me.

As if the presence of understanding makes explanation irrelevant.

Is it only when you speak of mysteries that you feel attracted to being alone?

As if anyone had the right to question what it is that goes on
under those layers of skin and fat, all the way to the bone.

NO ONE asks these questions for the simple reason of finding out

No one asks THESE questions in order to understand


As if the meaning of all that goes on underneath
was to hold no meaning

As if the lines that connect would get lost on the way from one point
to another

As if there was nothing in between.

how many petals can you count to?

Are they five split in two and does that mean 10?

Does the colour change depending on who it is who tries to reach for them?
Will there be a wind hard enough for me to have to shield my eyes?

Is rain complete with flowers the only rain I can endure?

Are there branches that turn when there's no wind?
Are there hands that reach higher than mine?


Do you want to choose the colour this time?

Let there be

s o n g