Quiet, I am sleeping
Somewhere next to you,
It is night time.
Inside she is weeping,
Crying outside, too,
In the sunshine...
So, here I am standing in some once vacant corner in her heart,
Wondering how I ever got to be here in the beginning,
And wondering why none of the pieces want to fit where they should;
Same shape, after all, but too stubborn to be limited.
I'm on the inside of this time and place,
Asking myself why they make it so hard on themselves,
Knowing that the answer is too surreal...
Or something so much baser.
The constant ticking of the watch fills the room,
"I am as loud as the birds," it says to me
And, of course, I nod, saying
"Sound is made from silence...and so was I."
I wrote a letter to myself,
Daring to ask why I was troubled so...
Yesterday, in my mailbox, I had a reply saying simply,
"I am of riddles because I want to be misunderstood...
I am of sunshine because I am afraid of the dark...
I am of castle walls to only keep myself in,
And I am an incantation of what you spoke."
And I understood.
So here I am again,
From the outside, looking in,
And I wonder...
If growing is a sin,
Then where can I begin?
And I ponder...
I think of why the days keep changing,
Why my thoughts keep rearranging,
Where are my memories?
I sift the light out from the tears,
I bring the sight out from my fears,
What is it that she sees?
I 'm looking from the inside out,
Finding reasons for my doubt...
The rest is history.
Looking from the inside out...
How could I ever live without
Her mystery?
And now I understand.