Bright

You get a little smaller each time you open up to the world. But your mind becomes a little larger knowing there's just so much left to fill.

Instances of deep, truncated thought have passed and gone all too frequently, at every opportunity I have to stay silent. It also comes with this resonating belief that I think (or feel) too much for my own good. I can hardly produce any answers to the questions, questions and questions that seem to rise through the west to the east of the matter that sits behind my eyes. Statements and observations that mean absolutely nothing except to me, and somehow there doesn't seem to be a way to explicate them in any logical manner or in any way I'd prefer to have admit. It's superfluous, unnecessary. Who has any time for that?

And as I try to figure out the things where I have little means of an explanation, I could rely only on good nature to pass me by. Patience and the struggle to grasp hold of acceptance. I'd like to think of us as planets, which align today; gravitating around your own heavy mass, revolving around the greater Sun, passing by another once in a while, crossing paths with comets, meteors, space junk, have a visiting rover or space man for that matter. But still distinguishable, independent and thriving on the inside with people or beings that sustain you. 

I am constantly at a loss for words having been tired out by fighting my own internal battle. 

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But there is no one there to watch you, what do you have to fear?