Monday, April 19, 2010

Premature life

It was gentle. It was tender. But it hit him so hard that it made him cry.
If I could unlock the door behind which you're hiding, I'd drag you out into the vast fields and tell you to stare at the sun knowing you will not go blind.
I'd tell you to run down the track and experience the atmosphere as one, not just oxygen alone.
I'd tell you to dance like you've never before even if it rains, because the body speaks for the heart, and the soul lives on that language alone.
Because I'd face you to look you in the eye and say "This is the dream, and we're living it now."
And both of us would agree on it because it's only a lie if you make it one.

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