Projection

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I'd thought id broken free and that there'd be new light all around me
I imagined me whistling a new tone that shone out from music both bare and taut
I thought roads would seem like orchards to heaven with everything being one with the spirit that I carried
Alas I'd even imagined clarity of thought that came along the tranquil space in my brain.

Well I thought wrong, didn't I?

I haven't tried to remember, but quite haven't managed to forget.
Tranquil moments, as expected , don't manage to create music in the expected octet.
The sea rumbles and reminds me of unkempt promises.
Back there most certainly feels like unstable premises.
As the yellow light ceases to glisten the same way anymore,
As gastronomical urges cease to translate to events anymore,
And mornings are just lone walks in the oh so familiar paths encore,
Nothing feels the same any more.
As time passes and I get engulfed in the translations of choices that I made,
Nothing remains the same.
Not me, Not the roads I walk ,
and certainly not the warm air that slips through the slits between my fingers,
that once played the role of a key for a fair bright padlock.


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