Morning Truths

Some blank stare across the morning sky
Wishing he could run away and leave it all behind
An epiphany of all things he cannot find
Or those things he left behind on the broken road
Though his heart is full of faith and hope
The tangible threads all dreams are made of
He sometimes wonders what it all means
Intentions he used to keep upon his shelf
They never saw the light of day
Never did he know he would wake up this way
Burning for something greater than where he has been
How long must he play the dreamers song?
How many Fall leaves must rest on the ground at his feet
Spinning a thread full of hope and wonder
To watch it unwind with out any adieu
He chokes on the ashes of his past
The torched path he left in his wake
He wishes he could tell her what he sees in her
Would it make a difference anyway?
Would she see that their distance has made him insane?
All the others who were with him pale in comparison
For the one he has never had, has captivated all of his dreams
Penning it to paper eases his addled brain
Somedays he writes of his new found hope
Yet others resort to the true nature of all things
He has no fear of what others may think
To his own heart is he solemnly true
Laugh and caw at the dreamer if you will
His heart does not hear your jeers and hate
He keeps his melody alive in his heart
Yet this morning it plays a melancholy tune
The ocean and the tide bring him a rhythm
That rhythm he pens into a song
That song is the one he sings about her
And of life, and dreams, and everything
He writes for all those who dare not dream for themselves
He writes for the ones who have lost their way
Somewhere strewn across that broken road
May they wind up home again