Each new day sparks the same bright lights
In turn, results in those habitual dull laughs and faded smiles
But to learn to sit in silence doesn’t mean to sit and suffer,
For even the deepest silence and be broken by a hopeful murmur.
It’s those little acts of hinted faith,
The flutter of damaged wings,
The uncontrollable sense of relief
A tear or a sigh can bring
It’s delightful, easy, but where the fuck is the meaning
In the artist’s fantastic, creative, unique way of dreaming?
As our close friend the nihilist would openly admit
We are but worm food in our open pits.
Simple, blatant, clear as the deaf can see,
But will what she sees in him affect both of them worse than me?
Is it a drug, can it be cured?
As we both know well, it’s not to be ignored.
For this we live, to listen and to learn
And it’s from todays lesson these new ideas are born
Words: James Holohan