Psalm 183

Pardon me if i seem to cop an attitude,
But the attitude is one of worship and is--i think--SINCERE.
My heart swells against the prison of my ribs,
and it grows to keep my lungs from seeking air.
Still the breath is not pushed out by such a simple force as 'Pride',
but by the glory of my dreaming that i might, perhaps, be loved..
by you.

Pardon me if i'm moved to endless chatter,
But i fear the beauty of the silence
As i watch your distant eyes caress the words i've arranged..

* * * *

i dont want to be like a bird or butterfly anymore. i'm getting tired and drained from flying away all the time. Teach me to stop and stay a while. I think i'd like that. <3