Looking through the eye of a telescope,
seeing nothing but dark encrusted memories,
of a time passed.
History beckons the heart,
blowing its strings,
blessing sentimentality,
bowing to the performance of an internal desperation.
Dreams that seem to capture time,
creating a sort of ethereal satisfaction;
causing an intangible event to occur,
with neither actuality nor address.
The eye of a telescope looks out,
seeing nothing but an eye stuck in an ever replaying cycle,
of a time passed.
seeing nothing but dark encrusted memories,
of a time passed.
History beckons the heart,
blowing its strings,
blessing sentimentality,
bowing to the performance of an internal desperation.
Dreams that seem to capture time,
creating a sort of ethereal satisfaction;
causing an intangible event to occur,
with neither actuality nor address.
The eye of a telescope looks out,
seeing nothing but an eye stuck in an ever replaying cycle,
of a time passed.
