Perhaps just sometimes the story… finds the story teller
not the other way around
She existed because she dreams
She dreams no more
It’s in the pages
It’s in the words
Search with me
And perhaps you or I will find who is telling the story
She’s been bleeding along time
suffering in poetry and prose
The dreamer will dream no more
The pen has been laid to rest
It’s already been said
Thanks for visiting 'Untitled Moments' Where breaking the silence is a learned journey for me. Passion fills many of my posts and pain is spilled throughout ... as splashes of hope and my faith fight its way to the top, someday there they will stay in victory...humbly shinning with purpose and confidence.
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One of L’s favorite blogs… check it out :) The Other 167 Hours
Layla, your post and song are both so graphic and intense. I keep reading what you wrote, trying to fully interpret its meaning and wondering if I should be reading between the lines or taking it as it is written. Either way, I’m praying that your heart wounds are starting to heal, not getting worse. I’ve missed reading your posts and I expect others have too. You’ve been fighting a hard battle and I hope you are seeing a glimmer of light in the distance. Give those little munchkins of yours a great big hug and tell them you are one strong fighter and you have a caring cheering section online. Hugs…
Understood. We are only witness to the world turning. Our viewpoint pours out in our stories, poems, songs, and art. But who is author? If we did not create the moon, or think up the flowers, or even name them…then who really authors our pen? Interesting! And I love that song :) I always wanted to be Amy Lee.
What if sleeping beauty was pierced by the thorns surrounding her? What if she was saved by something other than a prince?
great poetry, L. I miss reading your thoughts. how are you? still remember me? :) hope all is well with you. keep safe and stay beautiful inside and out.