Paradise

Slow passing moments ,

Like butterflies in the stomach,
Passed away away so fast,
A swishing sound, sudden to the ears,
Unconvincing to the mind ,was heard,
As the grand stage crumbled ,to fade away.

Dreams and passing moments go opposite ways,
Torn between the roads we move on ahead,
For one road is forever sealed,
And the choice between the roads was never really a choice,
But a harbinger desiring acceptance,
And a soul demanding repentance.

The whirlpool that swirls in the eyes,
Clouding vision by throwing in dust,
When truth is sometimes the lie,
And days speak of the darkest nights,
And black clouds rain in a heavy torrent,
And the fresh mud smell promises of new stories.

The wet moss on the ground,is so soft to touch,
Holding so many stories, 
of what once got buried in the ground.
While the sky holds a pretty rainbow,
So you could happily see,
Your dreams before you fade away, free.

And one might ask a valid question,
Whats the point to all this musing,
I must tell you, none indeed.
Just some thoughts to set me free,
Adios now, so I might see,
Another happy day in another happy dream.