S t o p & S t a r e //(Axel)
Mar 17, 2013 1:45:28 GMT -5
Post by k!ah on Mar 17, 2013 1:45:28 GMT -5
Stop and stare
I think I'm moving but I go nowhere
Yeah I know that everyone gets scared
But I've become what I can't be, oh
The pencil in my was light, full of inspiration waiting,
Finally I let into my pencil. It touches the paper and I feel the energy flow from me into the pencil, into the image that forms before my eyes. My hand slides over the paper, lines of all sizes and shapes, some thin flowing lines, some thick solid lines. Together they form a picture, a picture that I had created, something that had come from me. My eyes scan over the picture and I feel a surge of pride flow through me, as my eyes take in my creation.
Slowly I find the nerve to remove my gaze from the image I had created, turning my eyes up to stare into the night sky. Stars blaze, dancing across the sky, twinkling in and out of view. Sometimes I wonder how something so far away, could seem so close at the same time. I wonder what would happen one day if the stars did not come out. What would happen? I stare into the beauty that the night sky has created, lost in its beauty, lost in it life. My eyes follow a fiery star that shoots out of vision, falling from the sky, but to where? Where will it go? Will it die? How could something so beautiful die? Just become nothing? I ask myself these question, knowing that they won’t be answered.
Stretching my legs out in front of me, I peer down as the sketchbook in my hand. This book meant more to me than anything else that I owned. This book held everything that I thought made me who I was. My dreams, my thought, my nightmares. I turn through the pages, images, all different, but similar in a way, float across my vision. Emotion wells up inside me so strong that I have to close the book. The pages fall close and my mind races.
I close my eyes, and the cool night air presses around me, cocooning me in its present. I don’t pull away, I say absolutely still, held in the grasp of the wind. My hair flies across my forehead, my hands stay clamped tightly around my sketchbook. My hands are clamped so tightly around the sketchbook that my knuckles have turned white. Finally I open my eyes, images burst into life. The ocean is slowly creeping further and further up the shore as the stars climb lower and lower down the horizon. My smile fades as I watch the stars disappears, as the beauty of the night sky creeps away from my grasp.
I watch silently until all the stars in the sky have fallen and rosy pinks and morning blues replace them. Suddenly my desperation for the stars evaporates as I fall into the beauty of the sun rising over the horizon. I have watch the sun rise over a hundred times, from this exact spot on the beach, and each time I fall in love with its beauty once again. Every time it is different, each time it amazes me more than the time before.
Finally I resurface and my mind is brought back to me, bringing me out of my stupor. I shake to clear it. Slowly I make my way to my feet, my sketchbook tucked tightly under my arm. My feet make no sound as I shuffle along the sand, back towards home. Home.[/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify]
Stop and stare
[/color]You start to wonder why you're here not there
And you'd give anything to get what's fair
But fair ain't what you really need
Oh, can you see what I see[/i][/center][/size]