I remember staying up late at night writing
maybe dreaming, a place,
a time, a fragment...... a real thing.
These seconds of memory pound.
They are what we are.... despite the hundreds of thousands of thoughts that try to say otherwise.
Late at night alone we truly figure out who we are, but many sleep through that... others can't understand it, some think they get it.... but until you stand in the wind flowing up the river in the dark alone, you have no clue---though its not practical.
maybe dreaming, a place,
a time, a fragment...... a real thing.
These seconds of memory pound.
They are what we are.... despite the hundreds of thousands of thoughts that try to say otherwise.
Late at night alone we truly figure out who we are, but many sleep through that... others can't understand it, some think they get it.... but until you stand in the wind flowing up the river in the dark alone, you have no clue---though its not practical.
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