on day number one
Where are the reasons
found that facts do support
of situations bound too
hard within a sea of clouds?
Acting motions of
unknown poems form the directions of my play.
Fate moves now defined.
Unknown dreams of dreams
seem to get lost in some foolish race,
as we all capture things
that make no sense and continue on forever.
Who knows what to do, as
it does seem all the "rules" are against you.
How many times can the
curtain come down before my need to be
devastates your world of
silences?
Just where will I go
when the truth hits, and my reality
is bound by a television
set.
Who is writing the
instructions; I'm wondering?
Do you direct your life,
or is it beyond our
control?
I
wonder
about the
"core" people of the world, do they stop striving
and accept their lot in
life?
Who
is writing the instructions?
I'm wondering how things
get done?
Do
you direct your life?
Is life beyond control?
The agony of this search
is worth the effort.
I have to know if I'm
writing my scenes,
or not.