When the rain comes
Let it flow.
Do not dwell upon the drops
For no dreams unheard the thunder
Roar.
Their round essence glow like the face to the sun
Warmed and dressed up
Like the thought of you
and Your dancing dreams.
The inspiration of mind waves
Gleam and poke
Speak truth again as the fade of the night
turns the hum of the day
Into visions of times difference
When our heads rest at mindful hours
Parted
and Straight to the heart.
A.Lord
A quiet 4:30am under the covers. The changing seasonal winds blow. Speaking of covers. I'm safe and warm. I am writing. I wonder what kind of pillow your head rests upon in the west.
I want to hear about your dreams. About the whispers of the heart that dance and turn. Yes, write them down, let them out. Sometimes the booze and weed get us out of our own way, a release perhaps not capable otherwise in this moment. Your words are beautiful. I like hearing your mind expand.
I thought of you tonight. On the walk home. How lovely it was to speak to you. How you make my heart smile. The essence of you.
It is most definitely late and you are most definitely passed out. I write anyway. I was sleeping just before this and was awoken by the voice "look at your phone". I listened. I am glad i did.
Here you are.
Dream in colour. The rich tapestry of vision lingers but for a moment, to be captured and woven together with new light.
Cheers mate. You're lovely. (British accent)
Let it flow.
Do not dwell upon the drops
For no dreams unheard the thunder
Roar.
Their round essence glow like the face to the sun
Warmed and dressed up
Like the thought of you
and Your dancing dreams.
The inspiration of mind waves
Gleam and poke
Speak truth again as the fade of the night
turns the hum of the day
Into visions of times difference
When our heads rest at mindful hours
Parted
and Straight to the heart.
A.Lord
A quiet 4:30am under the covers. The changing seasonal winds blow. Speaking of covers. I'm safe and warm. I am writing. I wonder what kind of pillow your head rests upon in the west.
I want to hear about your dreams. About the whispers of the heart that dance and turn. Yes, write them down, let them out. Sometimes the booze and weed get us out of our own way, a release perhaps not capable otherwise in this moment. Your words are beautiful. I like hearing your mind expand.
I thought of you tonight. On the walk home. How lovely it was to speak to you. How you make my heart smile. The essence of you.
It is most definitely late and you are most definitely passed out. I write anyway. I was sleeping just before this and was awoken by the voice "look at your phone". I listened. I am glad i did.
Here you are.
Dream in colour. The rich tapestry of vision lingers but for a moment, to be captured and woven together with new light.
Cheers mate. You're lovely. (British accent)
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