A change is needed

There is a house built out of stone
Wooden floors, walls and window sills
Tables and chairs worn by all of the dust
This is a place where I feel alone
This is a place where I do not feel at home
'Cause, I tried to built a home
For you
For me
Until it disappeared
From me
To you
And now, it's time to leave and turn to dust
Out in the garden where we planted the seeds
There is a tree as old as me
Branches were sewn by the color of green
Ground had arose and passed it's knees
By the cracks of the skin I climbed to the top
I climbed the tree to see the world
When the gusts came around to blow me down
I held on as tightly as you held onto me
I held on as tightly as you held onto me
And, I built a home
For you
For me
Until it disappeared
From me
To you
And now, it's time
To leave and turn
To dust

How do you go on
When there is no love
Only darkness and pain
And no light to guide you

Numb
Wanting to be more numb
Yet lack the stregth to be so
Only make the numbness harder

Dead inside
Unable to breath
Alone
At the end

Feel again
Try to feel
Laying alone in bed
Delaying the day
While waiting
Waiting to feel again

The silence that may come / As it caves inward / And the end appears / Leaves no outward traces / Only pain

Yesterday Mike and I decided to wander over to the Library of Congress. After navigating a series of underground tunnel wandering from the Cannon House Office Building to the Jefferson Building, we finally emerged before the Main Reading Room. With its soaring ceiling, grand painting, and stack of books stretching toward the sky, it was all a little overpowering. I felt as if great things had to come from whoever sat in that room conducting research. The true joy of the trip, however, came from see a Thomas Jefferson’s collection. The library has gathered up as many of his original donation as possible and then found replacements for the one that had been destroyed. Standing amongst his books, I almost felt as if I was standing inside his mind.