Peddler of Dreams

She’s peddling, peddling dreams
By the seashore
She’s showing you, showing you things
You’d always suspected
But never known for sure
Saying the words you’d only heard in your mind.

She’s a wanderer,
Simple dreamer,
A soul led on a whim

She’ll be gone before the day breaks
Leaving only your dreams in her wake.
But she’s infected you to the core,
From just a look your way,
You don’t remember anything from before.

Because she’s peddling, peddling dreams
By the seashore
She’s showing you, showing you things
You’d always suspected
But never known for sure.
Saying the words you’d only heard in your mind.

She’s a wanderer
Simple dreamer
A soul led on a whim

She’ll never tell you what it takes
To keep her
But she’s a whim away
When you need her.

-AJ Sandhu

Paradise

You asked for another voice in the silence
Cause it was deafening in your mind
But in the sounds you heard
No words could be found.

Far up above me
Slower than my mortal coil;
Though faster than I'd ever understand,
Are galaxies colliding
With lives I'll never know

It doesn't mean I don't want to
Just a consequence of this life
Born to die only when
We start to understand

If I could hold you though the darkness
We'd shine a light so bright
I'd have to deal with 
The shadows that we'd cast.

How can I hold something I've never had?
What is this unspoken understanding
Between two worlds hell-bent on colliding?

What the sun wouldn't give
For a moment in the darkness
Only caving when her life is ending

I'm done with shallow words
Of what we should be
Lead me like inescapable darkness
Leads the light.

I'm here for the morning
Ever burning for moon's light
Reflecting but never returning

I'm on the verge of surrender
Giving up on paradise
I never knew I had.

Is this the tragedy of our lives?
To fade away only when
We learn how to live?

I'll hold on
To this precipice of hope
That maybe one day
A paradise will be mine
To hold again.

Disconnect

There is refuge in unwritten words still draped in the golden glow of magical possibility. A story in the mind is perfection, untainted by the imperfect words needed to craft reality.
How many wonderful worlds become contaminated by the disconnect between mind and hand? I can regale you with a dozen or more imaginings perfect and pure, until tested by the litmus of reality.
I’ve written before of ideas that ravage through like aches; stories that so thoroughly disconnected me from reality, I awoke weeping over the banal mundanities of a world without magic.
I create so I can escape from what I cannot control.
Finding release in my mind from what I cannot yet be free of in reality.
So consumed by the worlds over which I reign, I forget to paint them with the brush of truth. Falling to traps of perfect heroes without consequence. Heroes always in the right place at the right time with the right words. Never a moment, or even days, too late. Never human.
Doing so would acknowledge the faults I see in reality.
Sometimes words aren’t enough. No apologies or validation strong enough to ease the hurt. Sometimes you can be and are too late. If I refuse to show such human error in what I write, how can I expect to change reality?
It complicates the narrative, but I’ve been running from complication all of my life. If my escapes don’t teach me to cope, nothing will.
My characters, like myself and the people I’ve chosen to surround myself with, cannot put out all of the fires; cannot contain all of the damage. But we can learn to repair that which is in our power.

So can the people in my mind, if I would just give them the chance. 


Stay good and keep transmitting.

UPDATE

Blogging Sundays will be back this Sunday and I will try to create a backlog of posts so I can have this up and regular again. Thank you all for your support, it means the world to me.