Circles inside circles
The notion that nothing you create is ever truly real until it goes beyond paper
These words mean nothing
As I write them or when i sing them or when i say them
Unless you choose to listen
(And only the one stays on)
But a guarantee is set forth
(Like a branch withering)
By drawing these shapes on this page using ink
(As the tree retreats for winter)
Every word that is written here is given a meaning
(Into it's roots)
If only to me as I write them
Instead of being left
Discarded inside my mind, the branches of a tree
A seemingly endless path where one greater being
Spreads and splits out into more and more smaller ones
Each repeating the process
My thoughts move this way
Starting as a greater idea and separating
Each path growing more and more narrow
But my thoughts can only comprehend
One stream of thought
And as I back track
The other thoughts fade
(And only the one stays on)
But a guarantee is set forth
(Like a branch withering)
By drawing these shapes on this page using ink
(As the tree retreats for winter)
Every word that is written here is given a meaning
(Into it's roots)
If only to me as I write them