Breathe.
I’m trying to relax.
Trying.
But somehow,
Indoor silence just isn’t quite the same
And indoor air is old and stressed and stale
And somehow melancholy.
But why? Life is good;
I have so much.
Have done so much.
But here it is not enough
Never enough.
Only out there, in that world of
Trees and grass and cloud-strewn sky
Can I be free.
There, I am always enough
Just as I am.
And it is that silence which I long for,
Not this still, dead air
To furnace stress-paced life.
I need the other air
The clean air,
That loves me and all that I am
Or am not.
Yes, I need that air.
Then, I can
Breathe.
I’m trying to relax.
Trying.
But somehow,
Indoor silence just isn’t quite the same
And indoor air is old and stressed and stale
And somehow melancholy.
But why? Life is good;
I have so much.
Have done so much.
But here it is not enough
Never enough.
Only out there, in that world of
Trees and grass and cloud-strewn sky
Can I be free.
There, I am always enough
Just as I am.
And it is that silence which I long for,
Not this still, dead air
To furnace stress-paced life.
I need the other air
The clean air,
That loves me and all that I am
Or am not.
Yes, I need that air.
Then, I can
Breathe.