Synaptic Bloom

 In the wintertime

I hide from the outside world 

If it is not a silent evening by the fireplace on a mountain somewhere

With only the gentle cracks from the fire and the silence of the snowfall

It doesn't interest me 

I'd love to skate on a lake once in my lifetime 

But I guess that would be difficult without other people around 

I don't want any other... "things" "happening" 

I don't care for "things" 

I just want to disolve into the peace and quiet

Nothing happening on the outside world interests me anymore 

It looks like a badly written, attrociously performed play, to me

If it is not the honest fluttering of a bird or a butterfly 

The blooming of a winter rose 

The warmth of a glorious sunset 

The tenderness of snowfall 

Or candlelight during a storm

I mostly perceive modern life as an aggressively annoying noise 

I hide from it 

People scare me in their persuits 

They become something else 

I remember a time within me where things were more humane 

I feel misplaced by the stars 

When this is my definition of success 

In a world that never stops

I don't recognize this place outside my home, or outside my people 

I do not know this world anymore 

Nor do I want to... 

I want to remain as far from it as possible 

I aspire to be able to live simply, 

In abundance and protection

But away from all the nonsense and noise 

To live within me and within those who genuinely love me... 

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