Perhaps I’m back there where I know not my place,
Afraid of every crowded room, every doubt, every race.
For I used to write, as I used to look around,
To search for those eyes, that hair, or that smile.
I believed I would always know,
It would be feeling, and a rustle, and life would have changed forever.
Life would have meaning,
And there should be more, should be something out there.
But now that I, have stopped searching for that dawn,
Wishing it to creep up on me with its comfy warmth,
I now remake the mistakes of my past, adapt them to my favour,
Forget what I cannot remember, and remember what must hurt me.
Why do I write anymore, if I must only wait?
Have I not, all these years, convinced myself there’s more at stake?
That I be a warrior, a catalyst, a wraith against destiny’s constrictions,
And now I sit struck dumb by time, redeeming myself with only that occasional cold breeze,
That occasional warm afternoon with soft, ringing music.
Is life but such a collection, or is there more, more levels of beauty, or just the norm,
Twisting and turning, so what comes up unexpectedly, from around the turn,
So we force ourselves to believe in that ordinary specialty.
Will I see God, or some magician, or perhaps the supernatural? Travel to another dimension,
Free the world, go on an adventure?
Light the darkest parts of the universe, and travel through the dim-lit worlds never before seen,
And do it all with the loved ones watching, or with a power to experience new things and meet new people.
Perhaps walk on a Sun, reach a new level of intelligence, free the eternally restrained,
Lie in the face of truth, destroy more than what I’ve created,
Be the master of a galaxy,
Move the stars as per my will and defeat adversaries invincible.
Make the world watch in awe as my light blinds the doubters,
Make justice manifest, and have faith be rewarded.
Perhaps I’ll be master of the universe,
Perhaps I’ll fall in love,
Perhaps someone, will fall in love with me.
Perhaps I’d be the adventure.
Meliora 