Will you still meet me on the sunny road?

 "Sunny Road" - Emiliana Torrini

Bodily feelings, unprevokably written across your skin
those that you would rather just press and push to the side.
You'd rather run them off, but you know they'd just stay.
Settled in, because once they are thought, they are felt
they do not go away.
They are forgiven, they are driven
but they are not forgotten. For a good long while atleast.
Because what is captured in the pictures of myself, and of you
of smiles and sincerity, it is so much and too much more than your brain should ever be able to capacitate. It is that depression
anxiety, and panic that you so easily slip into. That a voice of good faith,
a voice of good heart, you. Can save me only when I am at my lowest.
God given gifts. These individuals that just refuse to let you, refuse to
give up. You that just wouldn't let me go.
There are simple explanations, simple connotations for the way things are
and Dear Lord I have to pray that you'd bring me peace, in a heart full of pitfalls
full of regret, lack of belief in who I am--and where I stand
Lord stand with me on something, sort of like stability, and let me know
You know, that I am kept.
I am held in the arms of something wrapping and wrapping
and gripping again at something more than I have known, thus far
because I..I know few, who knew--the potential--the potentiating effects, affects,
lives of You.
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There once was a girl. She lived in her mind even amongst her friends.
Youth and some sort of beauty and belief in, life? Was what kept her
afloat. Along the way she'd encountered, discouraging factors
the hope she'd care kept the masses, surrounding, full of her
and joy hers was filtered along to all.
She wept, she kept, she slept from time to time.
Now, and then she'd think of those who'd come and go and dwelled
inside, every now and again, she try and squeeze with everything around
out the deranged centricity of those who clung and fed, when they felt the need
and God how she needed more than she could suck
from those around. To have, and hold, and know that there was one who could feel.
Like you, and I, and all around you breath because it really is worth it.
More than this. Stalled tempts at what we really want.
And she wants to know just what you really want?

What do we really want?

nancy wilson

"River Road" - Nancy Wilson 

There something about the strum of a guitar that can make you want to stay up all night long just to listen. Just because you don’t want to miss it. The peace of that dreamy wakeness that makes that individual’s fingers pluck the hum, the resonance, the crescendo, decrescendo, break, chorus, scale, whatever. So long as they just keep on playing. Their fingers are the breath that keeps you awakened. Keeps the mind clear from thinking, for all that time, hours even away from anything. That music keeps you in your seat. Melds you to the leather, the cotton, the fabric that felt sticky, uncomfortable moments ago. You are that chair.
Music leaves us sinking, waking, sleeping, nussling, touching, warm and runny, chilled, smiling satisfaction, staying far past our curfew, staying up until the sun comes up, huddled by the fire, glowing, alive in a pitch black room, with nothing but a candle between us, silent, peaceful, kept, self assurance, well with the world.

take

When I think back on high school, on the friends I had and such it doesn’t so much feel like moments I remember in my past but more like a portion of life, a time period I could easily return to. Which is obviously not the case but it doesn’t feel lost, doesn’t feel forgotten; just feels like vital moments that were once My Life. Moments that are just caught in the back of my mind. Moments I could return to at any...well moment in present time and live again. Not so much the case really. High school is over. Individuals who I once knew as the closest people to myself, often closer than my family even, are now just voices on the line from time.....to time. What do you say when you’ve got nothing to really SAY to them? What peace can you bring to lives of those who you do not really know so much anymore? And what for the ones who you know, who you’ve loved, who you trust and rely on. What for those who have to be let go, for one reason or another aside from time?
How do you alter the status of a relationship minus...
1) guilt
2) sadness
3) anxiety
4) fear
5) regret
You pray to God for the words to say, thoughts to inspire, peace to transcend all complication, vision of the BIGGER picture, and the silence of understanding.
Please understand--I haven’t forgotten. I love you very very much and miss you also; there are just things in life that demand a sort of, respect. Not you fault, not mine just lives deciding factors.
But when you’ve been given such a gift of love.
How do distribution and discretion coincide appropriately.

"Worlds Apart" - Jars of Clay

i'm sure this has been asked before, but

can you ever turn the volume up loud enough on the stereo,
ever scream to the point where your lungs are comfortably burning,
every jump and dance and smile and talk at the highest rate of speed
to stomp, deafen, exhaust, blind the thoughts out of your mind?

and which music, exactly, would this sort of instance require?
can you ever drown out the thoughts of an idle mind?

how does anyone really relax?
when do you reach that real moment of self assured security in life,
when is it ever enough?

Sundays

"Ágætis Byrjun" - Sigur Ros

And when my mind is spinning, when thoughts are trailing reason feebly attempting to catch a breath, to breathe, my mind, my heart, my voice it falls to you. Lord.
What am I, alone. Who am I, with all my self, my trails, I fail you. again.
Reverence. Silence. Stillness. I would love to write a story telling enough to inspire...someone other than myself but then I fear it would be with the hopes of satisfaction, to the glory of them, and then I question, myself. How can I? Question that which is so. Is Everything.
As contrary to popular belief as this might be, I see you
in his eyes. In sincerity of a love, never needing, ever seeking, in prayer
in his and mine, family.
In a friend, Faith, of mine, depends, so near to my own, on, Dear Lord how could we, that which, they not See, is all over around IN.
The trees. the air rushing by as I run down, up, around the hills of a place I've been several times before. And it never ceases to amaze, me.
If I sang to you? If I danced all night, day, from the moment I rose til' you put me to sleep--from exhaustion, exultation, Dear Lord to scream your Name in declaration from, to every single inch of this world. This world you created.
Comprehension is really so incomprehensible I can do nothing more, I can do all the more to sing, a song, with words written, on knees bent, face down,
To praise you, Lord, my Father you are.
The reality of this, scares the cynic in me
Lord, I am a child at your feet.