listening to music at midnight
trying to write something meaningful
trying to set my soul on fire
to write words that hold the heart
in a fist of feeling
but who am i to seek what might not be
maybe i’m just an ordinary woman
in an ordinary house living an ordinary life
and one day drifting into an ordinary death
who listens to me in the closet of darkness
of an ordinary night after an ordinary day
of ordinary breathing in clouds?
years are drifting by noticed and unnoticed
and still the dream of deepness doesn’t fade
maybe i should be hiking along a different road
maybe I should walk through the fire
and let it scorch me, burn off the ordinary
maybe, just maybe, there is a phoenix inside me
words, they’re just words, but . . . .
StoryGirl 