Moments

I'm standing in the open and I'm stepping out my clothes;
I'm taking off this make-up and I'm dropping this pose.
I'm walking in bare feet, and I'm throwing back my head.
I'm running round in circles.
You're staring straight ahead.

And if you saw beauty right infront of your eyes;
Thundrous blankets,
Rolling mist,
The vastness of the sky...
Dew falling from a blade of grass;
A crimson sun on broken glass,
You'd say what's in a moment, when a moment leaves so fast.

I'm telling you a buzzard is soaring overhead
It's wings soaring through a space
I wish I could be instead.
You say that it's clichéd,
the beauty that I see.
It's been devalued through time.
By who, humanity?
Or the people who see beauty that sets them free?
Everyday, it's cliché,
And I'm not perfect, but I'm me.

So I'm stepping off the pedestal you put me on when I was small.
I'm telling you that words won't make me trip and fall,
but let me unveil a feeling I can't say.
It's not logical or methodical, but it could blow you away.
It's not science or fact,
Just a smile in the sway
Of the skeletal trees.
Of the pastel hills.
Of a sun breaking through
In rays, onto fields.
Of a butterfly, or the moon,
Or the sweeping stars.
Or the beat of a tune
that we can call ours.

You'd say what's in a moment, when a moment leaves so fast?
A second of understanding in a universe too vast.
A vision of life without scouring the past.
A cliché, everyday, that you hope just might last.

I'm standing in the open and I'm stepping out my clothes;
I'm taking off this make-up and I'm dropping this pose.
I'm walking in bare feet, and I'm throwing back my head.
I'm running round in circles.
You're staring straight ahead.

Just breathe. Just see. It doesn't have to make sense.
Silence speaks volumes when you wander the unsaid.