“His Thoughts Lay Silent in The Privacy of His Head”
He has travel far and wide, from shore to shore, from sea to sea. He’s flown through the sky and under the sea; he’s helped rebuild nations and helped restore order in places no one should be. His eyes have grown blurry, pains in his arms and legs and knees, his mind is full of life and places he would love see.
He reads and writes and conveys his thoughts thinking others may believe. Inspired by curiosity, waking early to hear the news, another war, another killing, more greed then he can believe. The times have changed, not for the good, but simply have changed, he sees man an all it’s glory begging in the streets, for a dime for a penny maybe a piece of meat.
The future has only dreams of the past; his past just a memory, some good, some bad and so many things that didn’t last. The friends he sees in the morning light are plants and animals and trees. They are full of life as any one can see, they spring forth each morning, happy to be alive and share their day with him. Some water, the sun light is all they need, if for nothing else they give him a very large grin.
The days go by quickly, day turns into night, and time flies by and things get done. His time on this planet is quickly coming to and end, faster then he expected he remembers when it had begun. He lies still at night all alone thinking of things gone wrong, if he had of done this or had of done that would it of changed the final outcome.
The silence is defining as he awaits the morning sun; the fan is blowing air across his face as he stares off into space, glancing often to check the glowing clock counting the minutes in his head and thinking of the day ahead. He’s inspired with thoughts and ideas to start his day, the smell of coffee brewing and maybe a couple of eggs.
Rolling from under the sheets his feet hit floor, the pillow felt good under his head but it was time to leave the bed. It’s a new day a new beginning of the end if you will, another opportunity to write from his head. The lights come on, the house is quiet and cool the smell of the brewing coffee fills the room as he turns toward his desk to straight up the mess.
The computer screen is blank it’s where he writes the stories that fill his life, that darkness, that open empty space; it awaits his touch, offering unlimited potential a wide open place. Jotting down notes from his over night’s rest, where to begin he thinks, finding words and text, configuring and arranging the paragraphs to complete his next quest.
Minutes change to hours as the hustle seems to blow by, creating and thinking with persistent pursuit his mind races silently effortlessly as the words hit the page. He’s completed the task it’s taken most the day; the writing is ready for the world to see.
Now his thoughts can rest and lay silent in the privacy of his head.
He has travel far and wide, from shore to shore, from sea to sea. He’s flown through the sky and under the sea; he’s helped rebuild nations and helped restore order in places no one should be. His eyes have grown blurry, pains in his arms and legs and knees, his mind is full of life and places he would love see.
He reads and writes and conveys his thoughts thinking others may believe. Inspired by curiosity, waking early to hear the news, another war, another killing, more greed then he can believe. The times have changed, not for the good, but simply have changed, he sees man an all it’s glory begging in the streets, for a dime for a penny maybe a piece of meat.
The future has only dreams of the past; his past just a memory, some good, some bad and so many things that didn’t last. The friends he sees in the morning light are plants and animals and trees. They are full of life as any one can see, they spring forth each morning, happy to be alive and share their day with him. Some water, the sun light is all they need, if for nothing else they give him a very large grin.
The days go by quickly, day turns into night, and time flies by and things get done. His time on this planet is quickly coming to and end, faster then he expected he remembers when it had begun. He lies still at night all alone thinking of things gone wrong, if he had of done this or had of done that would it of changed the final outcome.
The silence is defining as he awaits the morning sun; the fan is blowing air across his face as he stares off into space, glancing often to check the glowing clock counting the minutes in his head and thinking of the day ahead. He’s inspired with thoughts and ideas to start his day, the smell of coffee brewing and maybe a couple of eggs.
Rolling from under the sheets his feet hit floor, the pillow felt good under his head but it was time to leave the bed. It’s a new day a new beginning of the end if you will, another opportunity to write from his head. The lights come on, the house is quiet and cool the smell of the brewing coffee fills the room as he turns toward his desk to straight up the mess.
The computer screen is blank it’s where he writes the stories that fill his life, that darkness, that open empty space; it awaits his touch, offering unlimited potential a wide open place. Jotting down notes from his over night’s rest, where to begin he thinks, finding words and text, configuring and arranging the paragraphs to complete his next quest.
Minutes change to hours as the hustle seems to blow by, creating and thinking with persistent pursuit his mind races silently effortlessly as the words hit the page. He’s completed the task it’s taken most the day; the writing is ready for the world to see.
Now his thoughts can rest and lay silent in the privacy of his head.