Really...I believe, that I just want to pull you from your world completely.
and pull myself from my own.
and travel to a new place.
where we came make something new
and complete.
some place....we can call home (call our own) and be proud...and be whole...and honest...
that way, all these little things that seem to get in the way of getting anywhere become obsolete.

become nothing more than a memory or idea, because they aren't part of what we've created.
they are the things left to the rest of the world.
things left, disregarded.
things unnecessary.

we do not need...or want.
things only displayed as distractions,
things only interpreted as excuses.

excuses as to why great war and reward can be shrugged off as imagination, as ideal...too piped in dreams to ever be real.
our lack of faith and hope pining finely into definition as to why things cannot change.

and these things.
and these things...


left scattered,
thrown to the wind...

these road blocks
these mind tricks
these conditions.
these realities.
this life.

completely washed free of.
scratched freshly to an empty canvas.
clean slate.

pure.
endless possibilities previously leaning us towards frustration of being expected to pick an oil. to pick a color. to pick a backgroud. a road. to preemptively understand the point of end the beginning would push us towards.
washed clean of understanding.
of experience.
of truth memory may have served time and again.
a begining so new and unfamiliar that we know not what color is red. know not what texture is paint. know not what use the size variety some brushes may serve.

know not our own fingers.

know not our own tendencies.

know not our own language but create one from the simplicity of human understanding.
create explanation from the innocence of our hearts.
save only what we cannot control.

our purpose.
our growth.
our transformation from young and unaware to wise and unprepared.

everything entirely fresh...
yet comforted in pockets of soulful knowledge and intrigue.

back inside our closet doors.
within the cushions we create in our defense.

all these walls
all these puzzles
all intentional misinterpretations turn inessential.
we are merely born anew.

with nothing but ourselves and each others' capability to conquer this battle.
yet not one single clue as to the essence of where we came from, what we are made of, where there is begining and when there is end.
clueless blind and entire.

pulled from both worlds into our own dawn.

we are born together; into a life...
fit only for us to conquer completely, as one unit.
as one capable
willing
and flawless force.
we are the derelict detachment
produced form points we have never touched.

and in our new beginning
we are faced with a journey
demeritorious to nothing but curiosity and confusion.

we sink our toes into the fresh ground.
arm in arm.
I watch us waltz away.
and we are perfect.