I have been sleeping on my knees as of late.
Attention has run off to a place where time isn't old.
In the younger time it moves faster, so fast in fact that your eyes only comprehend a few pictures.
Most in which never actually did happen (something of a dream). Yet, some of course are just a mere reflection of desire. It is when attention runs to a more youthful and irresponsible place that we have given away our very will for ignorance. (oh what "bliss")
This child, Attention, is not easily persuaded, entertained, or even controlled.
It is almost as bi-polar as the menopausal pharmacist behind her raised counter or even the weather.
(Autumn, how I long to feel your brisk wind)
I also have another that accompanies me on occasional outings, Discipline, is his name.
He doesn't come out much, (though I know he's there) because attention constantly harasses him.
I don't blame discipline for his cowardice for it was only his upbringing that was the cause of such an attitude.
The thing I keep pondering is, what if Attention (like all young girls) only puts on this front of dislike towards Discipline and is actually in love with him?
Yes I know hardly even a plausible thought that should even be considered.
Yet, If the arrangement could only be made THEN I should stay awake on my knees as I pursue the one whom I love!
I am dreaming of a romance between two lovers that they might become one.
Then Attention would become mono-polar and discipline would lead the way of my desires, carving a path in this untredged ground under my feet.
Oh if the love would bud and bloom then (and only then) could I meet with my love, and in a time much older then even now.
That I would sit in a room in the heart of the house of my Love.
There would be pictures on the wall and even furniture elegant and quaint.
I would sit in the chair (or kneel at it rather) as He sings in my ear (a song I have never heard).
The melody would be so stunning that my heart would keep it's tempo (almost as if it was created to do so).
I would sit silent, quieted by a love so tangible.
Quieted by truth often misunderstood and misrepresented, as I sit there on my knees.
I would be wholly and irrevocably consumed in a pleasure, as the pictures of my heart (that He painted of course) hang on the wall.
I would not fall asleep. Yes, the time would be ancient, and finally I would not fall asleep.
Attention has run off to a place where time isn't old.
In the younger time it moves faster, so fast in fact that your eyes only comprehend a few pictures.
Most in which never actually did happen (something of a dream). Yet, some of course are just a mere reflection of desire. It is when attention runs to a more youthful and irresponsible place that we have given away our very will for ignorance. (oh what "bliss")
This child, Attention, is not easily persuaded, entertained, or even controlled.
It is almost as bi-polar as the menopausal pharmacist behind her raised counter or even the weather.
(Autumn, how I long to feel your brisk wind)
I also have another that accompanies me on occasional outings, Discipline, is his name.
He doesn't come out much, (though I know he's there) because attention constantly harasses him.
I don't blame discipline for his cowardice for it was only his upbringing that was the cause of such an attitude.
The thing I keep pondering is, what if Attention (like all young girls) only puts on this front of dislike towards Discipline and is actually in love with him?
Yes I know hardly even a plausible thought that should even be considered.
Yet, If the arrangement could only be made THEN I should stay awake on my knees as I pursue the one whom I love!
I am dreaming of a romance between two lovers that they might become one.
Then Attention would become mono-polar and discipline would lead the way of my desires, carving a path in this untredged ground under my feet.
Oh if the love would bud and bloom then (and only then) could I meet with my love, and in a time much older then even now.
That I would sit in a room in the heart of the house of my Love.
There would be pictures on the wall and even furniture elegant and quaint.
I would sit in the chair (or kneel at it rather) as He sings in my ear (a song I have never heard).
The melody would be so stunning that my heart would keep it's tempo (almost as if it was created to do so).
I would sit silent, quieted by a love so tangible.
Quieted by truth often misunderstood and misrepresented, as I sit there on my knees.
I would be wholly and irrevocably consumed in a pleasure, as the pictures of my heart (that He painted of course) hang on the wall.
I would not fall asleep. Yes, the time would be ancient, and finally I would not fall asleep.
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