The moments are building I know. The times are changing. I wish I could change too. Change into vapor, and ride on the chilly March winds towards the bay. Everything will happen, everything will unfold. I won't leap into the future blindly. I will not jump into a frying pan. I see myself winging it over the unrelaible Northern California sunshine.
Funny, how different I feel when I'm there. I breath. I fan the flames of my complications and quirks openly. Without care for offense or disapproval of family or perception of friends who have a strong definition of who I am. They're views of me are correctto an extent. We all project a fascade, right?
Presently, I feel there are very few who know the actual me. There are a few. But isnt that a typical statement that most people would say? I have to answer yes. Out of the hundreds of thousands of billions can one person say they know someone entirely. We all have secrets.
Secrets so dark that not even a torch could not illuminate them. I don't find the darkness bad in the sense that it is evil. People since the dawning of time have stated anything remotley dark was bad like skin, and hair color. If there was no darkness, how could one determine how beautiful a falling star was? Or without the night, how could we listen to a lullaby dreaming in the whispery moonlight? Impossible I say, so tonight from my window I will watch the trees bend heavy with rain and listen to the feral cats hiding underneath my lavender for cover in the dark and dream.
Music- Marie Laforet: Modinha
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