I feel the words before I see them;

They crackle and fall loose between

My ears and my eyes,

Like a strange melody of past goodbyes.

Have Your Voice Be Heard: Become an Odyssey Creator

They filter like sunshine streams

Of pink and gold, echoing in between

The corners of reality and a dark

Distant dream -

That whispers quietly of no life

Beyond falling, but are we brave enough

To try anyway?

No, no bravery does not

Come before the nightmares, it

Lies in the wake of them, screaming

"Continue on" and reminds us

That death does not stalk bones.

Rain can be gentle and rain can be

Wild, but the truth is not found

In the rain.

Because rain or shine the world

Keeps turning in its ever faithful

Theme of not caring about whether

We have lost our souls in the

Galaxies.

So sometimes it rains and we

Dance in joy, and sometimes the sun

Mocks our pain.

But let's not blame the weather for the stitches in our hearts.

Wounds can be of more than one nature.

But perhaps the greatest pain of

All is hearing the words and not

Feeling them, slowly seeing the corners

Of your mind turn black, and wondering how it could be possible for the

Word "goodbye" to break all the

Cracks?

Still, maybe we can make it back...?