Strange

So Strange, who we are...so strange.

our fleeting desires that fade and yet come back to us again and again.
the only constant is that we lack a constant.

Who are we, so strange, who we are

being blinded by a light that declares the truth.
but of a brightness that can't withstand the impending darkness.

So strange, who we are...so strange.

that we can experience a multitude of feelings all at once...
wondering which is the most real
but being sure that none of them are except the fact that you feel something.

Who are we, so strange, who we are

when the very thing we want most is the thing that we wish never existed.
as the morning star brings hope to something that is sure to disappear.

So strange, who we are...so strange.

for our will is such a coward. afraid to take hold of what it knows to be fading, yet possibly eternal.
fog covers all of our brief moments of clarity.
a fog so thick yet navigable enough to drive us into psychosis.

so strange, so strange, so strange.....that those who see me as i wish to be seen.....are afraid to let me see them for who they are...and

so strange...how sensitive we can be when we are uncertain that that which we want also wants us.

who we are...whatever we are...never we are the same...but always we are.

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