I wonder where the words will go
if I don't take the time to use them.
It's taking everything I have right now
to move through the motions of these days,
to complete the things that have to be done.
Nothing moves at my pace, in my best interest,
in the way that I want it to.
I got very used to approaching the day on my own terms,
to doing exactly what I wanted to do when I wanted to do it.
It was so good for my soul
not to have to punch a clock
or follow a schedule.
It's amazing the way all the doors and windows
were thrown wide open and I had the chance
to open myself and take it all in.
Now the time is ticking constantly
and everything is rushed and hurried.
There is no time for peace
and even less time to dream.
I miss you, introspection, it's only been a matter of days
and already you seem foreign and strange.
I don't recognize the shape you have taken
or the form that you chose.
I can still feel you near me
lingering on the fringes of my consciousness,
taunting my weary soul.
But you will not show your face in the light of this room,
you will not bring me the gift of your song.
There is an echo within me
of music that came from another time,
another place, another world that I lived in.
But here I can only hear silence
and here the silence is deafening.