the world is caving in - shapes have collapsed, north has died, colours have forgotten their names, numbers dissolve into nothingness, above and below are vague memories, cannot make out light from dark - does it matter once you are blind?
what does a blind man see?
darkness or all encompassing light?
how would he know?
how would you know?
what do I hear?
is it white noise or deafening silence?
desolation
desperation
depression
the landscapes are all grey, barren and cold. Hope struggles upward through darkness and is born - battered, bruised and bleeding, only to be ripped apart by bitterness - feral and hungry.
the seeds, filled with innocence and eternal (?) hope, still dream, but they know not what waits above, for the dead tell no tales
I still have her and I still love her, so maybe I will not wake the dreaming seeds
what does a blind man see?
darkness or all encompassing light?
how would he know?
how would you know?
what do I hear?
is it white noise or deafening silence?
desolation
desperation
depression
the landscapes are all grey, barren and cold. Hope struggles upward through darkness and is born - battered, bruised and bleeding, only to be ripped apart by bitterness - feral and hungry.
the seeds, filled with innocence and eternal (?) hope, still dream, but they know not what waits above, for the dead tell no tales
I still have her and I still love her, so maybe I will not wake the dreaming seeds
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