The pages are still blank, but there is a miraculous feeling of the words being there, written in invisible ink and clamoring to become visible. ~Vladimir Nabakov

Monday, April 18, 2011

Impostors



Frozen in time unable to feel
Naive to hear, touch nor see
Soon we are not who we are
Bound to be completely free

Why have the years gone by?
Oblivious we are they disappear
Blanketed delusions within us lie
Creating facades from our fear

Walking, seeing and hearing cries
Of those distant voices who call
In the shadows of our existence
Getting up to try again we fall

Folding hands from dirty laundry
When desire bubbles in our core
For items to build broken dreams
Yearning we wish forever more

Impostors exist within our mirrors
Reflecting beings we do not know
Defiant souls who crave but fame
To continue waves of greedy flow

The hearts are beating to a rhythm
As the Earth echoes cries of plead
Revive love and mostly consider
Respectfully equal we do all bleed

Abundance lives in air we breathe
It is not too late remove the mask
Although kind cautiously do step
Each fulfilling your mortal task