his dark blue impignating iris's
intensly match the ominious color,
of the trailing summer's midnite sky
he know's im gazing at him,
and the blazing shooting star,
above and going beyond our beating hearts
is the earth winding around the quickest it can?
is his car speeding up fast enough?
for the shooting star is out running the world infront of us...
is it our flaming passion?
eagerly causing us to rapture the chase of life?
we're impulsively wanting to rise,
from these black wood chips and ashes,
that the world sets under our burnt feet
yet we are constantly falling from the sky,
the star is foolishly falling
can our misinterpreted mistake, give us hardship pain to learn wisely from for once?
can we handle the hurting truth's scrapel burns upon our more-then-once lying rubber feet once more?
can we accept the earth's well rounded relevance & karmatic pulls to the rest of the universe's reasonings around us?
for how can this falling star survive,
without a respective public atmosphere,
of unconditional sympathic understanding?