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To be, or not to be…

That has always been the question. To move, or not to move, that has been mine. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be a cloud. Formless and unattached I could travel the world, watching the land and the sea as they drift by. I would be untouchable, invinceable. Left to my own devices I would freely wander the wind, exploring every inch of the world. I would creep through the wooded hills, letting my fingers fill every nook and crack. I could lift my self high, until I could see every living person. I would coast next to the airplanes, watching as the try to immature me. I would be the harbendger of storms, or the herald of the morning. But the one thing I could never do, is rest. But to be a moutain. Silent and tall, enduring the rain and the wind and the snow. I could have the power of a beast, and the gentleness of a flower. I could sleep for a thousand years, or I could change my shape with the seasons. I would stand watch as the world went by. Watching cities rise and fall, watching good men do great deeds and evil men vanquished. I would watch the end of the world, and I would watch the Earth begin again. And still I would remain. However, the one thing I could never do, is move.

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Isn’t it funny how memories get clouded over and dimmed grey but a touch of music and it all comes to the surface, all vibrant and overwhelming filled with emotions we can no longer understand or comprehend?

oscarsins (via oscarsins)

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Do you think?

How many times did our paths cross? How many ways did we almost meet? How many stories did we almost share? How many lives did we almost live?

Do you think if we knew for sure We all would smile at strangers more? Laugh like loons and sing like pros And dance with sand between our toes

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I hid you between the pages of my journal, between the lines of poems, in metaphors that spoke of moonlight and the stars and hurricanes and oceans. I learned your phone number by heart, even when I knew I would never need it again. The typical things you would have thought of a girl in love, I know. I delivered them all, cliché after cliché. I wrote it all down, ink flowing in my veins, trying in vain to turn heartbreak into something pretty. But I’m not trying to surprise you - I only ever wanted you to listen like I listened to you. I couldn’t bring myself to delete your messages, even after it was over. There are so many words I could have read the wrong way, so many phrases I probably didn’t understand. Now look at me, months have passed and I’m still digging for hidden messages in your unspoken words, I still read between the lines and try to unravel secrets you wove into your letters. I wish I could stop trying to interpret your silence, but it seems so much louder than everything you have ever said. It leaves room for more, something that your words never did.

j.a. (via beautifulessencewildmind)

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