12 String Dreams Journal
With not so much a smile, but a grin of discontent, the
season changed, summer went. That which we left behind
dosn't differ from that which we've yet to embrace.
Embrace we will. Sometimes with our arms, tightly, with a
desperation bordering on disbelief. Sometimes with our
hearts. Yearning with blind obsession, yet still beating
deep within us. Sometimes only with our eyes. From accoss a
room, lit harshly with the fake floresent glow, we know.
The time between conciousness is filled with everything but
sleep. Many nights reflect this. Many nights reflect the
day that led the way. Sometimes these reflections bring a
joyful overtone to the soft evening song. Other times,
reflections get washed away by the tears of the past and
the heartache of yesterday.