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Your Life
An illusory window in the mind,
The boundary ‘twixt the masses and oneself;
A line that many try too hard to cross
And end up casting curses at the wind.
Are you a special one?
Why do you look so high?
Is there some doubt within your soul
That you must rectify?
You worry overmuch –
Or do you play to lose?
Time will not stop – you will get naught
If that is what you choose.
Whether or not you are some special thing
You always have a special song to sing;
Follow your voice through plain or mountain pass,
For life is yours up ‘til the very last.
umm... yea, theres a separation between others and yourself. in my case its a few miles of landmines, some barbed wire, a few hundred bazooka toting soldiers and a five foot thick steel door secured with an eye scanner, fingerprint analyzer, and voice detector. it locked me out when i had a cold, a burst blood vessel in my eye, and when i burned my finger though...
anyway, i have some problems with this poem...
"follow your voice" - yea, i can run at the speed of sound!! *rolls eyes*
"you always have a special song to sing" - and that DOESNT mean anyone wants to hear it.
Sup intersected subjective galilean reference frames (seriously). I liked it, because it reminded me of how one can't transcend their very being to that that has no tinting windows. Coolness, sir.