Sunset significant to slower pace.
I swear,
we've been giving chase
for months worth days now.
How we've seemingly drawn closer
is a farce to perception.
Distance will not yield
no matter how high we build
and scale to bear proof.
The roof was once a sky
for eyes that looked past never
giving chase to forever.
Dust and smoke.
What was left of the path
provoked by expediency.
Decency measured by time
instead of sensibly by tread.
Concepts crashing, cloudy,
dry and blood red.
Well to do is dead
and the clearer head hangs lifeless.
Began living less as if
such sacrifice would bring proximity.
What sense are we
if to be,
we neglect the need to see
the circle that will not cease?
It takes a crease in time.
A welcome wrinkle in monotony
to draw away from hopeless
and peer into possibly.
Positivity aside,
is it the ride or the destination?
Wherein rests this fixation?
Is there elation in the pretentious
chase set forth to merely thrill us?
Are we at peace with just contentious
to the point where progression kills
if we would dare look to reach for it?
Is the never ending race the true forfeit?
Can we even afford it anymore?
Pretty thoughts are novelties
that time will see corrode and rust.
Must melds with the mold
and this path, crackling and old
with each day will just erode
until only stories are told
in our boastful, bold tone
of how close to home we truly were.
The scene observed
better seen than heard
should be seen then heard
lest perceived absurd
or old
as tales over tea and whiskey.
To miss me
and none of the experience
would mean far less in respect
to what we've claimed in this instance.
To miss you
but none of the moments trapped in time
would barely conceal the rift
caused by this paradigm.
Can't reason with a rhyme
so out of place but not erased.
We just don't have the time
so in spite of the risk,
we chase.
Written By: Devin Joseph Metz
What was left of the path
provoked by expediency.
Decency measured by time
instead of sensibly by tread.
Concepts crashing, cloudy,
dry and blood red.
Well to do is dead
and the clearer head hangs lifeless.
Began living less as if
such sacrifice would bring proximity.
What sense are we
if to be,
we neglect the need to see
the circle that will not cease?
It takes a crease in time.
A welcome wrinkle in monotony
to draw away from hopeless
and peer into possibly.
Positivity aside,
is it the ride or the destination?
Wherein rests this fixation?
Is there elation in the pretentious
chase set forth to merely thrill us?
Are we at peace with just contentious
to the point where progression kills
if we would dare look to reach for it?
Is the never ending race the true forfeit?
Can we even afford it anymore?
Pretty thoughts are novelties
that time will see corrode and rust.
Must melds with the mold
and this path, crackling and old
with each day will just erode
until only stories are told
in our boastful, bold tone
of how close to home we truly were.
The scene observed
better seen than heard
should be seen then heard
lest perceived absurd
or old
as tales over tea and whiskey.
To miss me
and none of the experience
would mean far less in respect
to what we've claimed in this instance.
To miss you
but none of the moments trapped in time
would barely conceal the rift
caused by this paradigm.
Can't reason with a rhyme
so out of place but not erased.
We just don't have the time
so in spite of the risk,
we chase.
Written By: Devin Joseph Metz
No comments:
Post a Comment