The sun breaks the ribbon of the stars,
A ticker tape parade as a new day starts,
Clothed in clouds and running a marathon with the soaring wind,
At the end of the day rests in God’s right hand in heaven.
The moon comes in when the sun is put to rest,
As the day itself begins to undress,
The stars tell a story of the history of the days before,
Where the sun needs to go,
What it is yet to explore,
And it all flows so naturally,
The whole world is in symmetry and at rest,
An assembly line in a days time,
Twelve hour shifts and the only benefits,
Is we aren’t left behind.
Everyday we hike an abandoned trail,
Filled with abstract art,
The highways are the brush,
And the cars the canvass,
Buildings and billboards add color,
And we put in our time,
Climb to the top of the mountain,
We are replaced with the moaning crickets,
Harmonizing with the wind,
A concert of no consequence,
But to keep things in a straight line.
And the top of the mountain I have,
Words that are piling up to the top of the mountain,
An avalanche of tied tongues,
Will these words sound like I’m speaking in tongues to you?
Will the weight of them collapse you?
Will the sun break the ribbon again if I speak?
Or will we be subjected to eternally something so bleak?
But I’m less scared then I’ve ever been,
The wind at my back and its blowing me into,
Your face and the words I’ve wanted to say to you….
Like the day it flows so naturally,
Yoga pants and yoga mats,
The words we say….
They are meant to be said.
There’s no going back