Sunday mornings for me have always been that day to meditate over music and coffee. These days, given the certain state of 2020, I more frequently am able to have more of these days, but the do not bare the same effect, as Sundays.
I lie wide awake before the sun has rotated enough to shine light, on the morning. I am mostly lost, in the abyss, of the assembly line of thoughts being produced by the conscious mind.
These are the moments I am usually telling myself to put this shit down on paper and ignoring the request, just as quickly. This Sunday is different because I’m lost, in my IMAGINATION.
The lyrics are meant to be heard
in these moments of silence
Bringing the sense of comfort
I am listening this time
I hear the feeling
not through my ears
The pen hitting the paper
My mind clear and open
without the worry
The bee keeper feeling the vibration of the bee
The silence golden