Red rose, red peddles
She falls, and finds her way into his arm
And he grabs her, lift her higher and higher
Turns then turns, she turns and he swings
He swings, and swings, she turns and turns
a perfect dance
I'm jealous of their perfect dance
two strangers just meet and they start dancing
And I grew jealous
Because they are children, although older than I
I felt hurt, I felt shame
They just met, yet beautiful couple they make
How do they know?
Where to go?
How to get there?
The wind whispers and swirls and swirls
A small twister appears and lifts the leaves…
They twirl and twirl and then stopped…
When the peddle fell from the rose, it appears
Lifts her higher and they danced
in my mind
A character in this reality, each of us is a character in each episode. Everyone else is watching in another reality. Who is to say what is known? What if all that is known is just perceived? Everything we know is almost everything that we have been told. If our ancestors figured their own truths, why are we not looking for our own?
-in my mind