Tuesday, August 10, 2010

A Sweet Carousel

Sometimes words muffle what the soul wants to say. Haunting secrets and stories that must softly uttered. One cold frozen word at a time. Like sand that seems to sift through my fingers, unable to grasp the tiny amber-hued specks. Bright lights flashing and spinning. Endless spinning. Hot red blood rushes into my head and I try to hold on. Round and round I go, faster and faster. But when the ride is over, all that I want to say is lost. All that lay in my hands are raw jagged pieces unable to fit together. Footsteps retreat, fainter with each step, and my soul closes the door.

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