Talent Ambianced1

The Things I Know

By Ambianced1 | 2008

It is not I who fears the dark or even the light of day
It is not I who seeks them out or drives them all away
I walk at night and in the brush I hear a lonely soul
It is not my place to understand or grasp his hand to hold
I listen faintly to the steps that follow me down the road
I feel their burden pressing down giving it to me to hold
I am not their keeper, I look not to see their face
For I know that in my heart of hearts, the memory wont erase.

I hear the voices calling me for I am an Aura squared
They cling to me in silent hope that I can lead them there.
But I cannot embrace them back or lead them on their way
For how can I who is lost herself, help those who are left astray
I hear them in the soft night wind; rustling in the leaves
I see their shadows near their grave and watch them desperately grieve.
I feel the weight of earth and sky come pressing down on me
And try to visualize a simpler mind that has not eyes to see.
Paranormal, a channel, a voyeur in other’s minds and deeds
My therapist says all these things make it difficult to say the least,
To quiet the sights and sounds of the never resting beasts.

But why should I be paranormal when normal is all I crave
And why should I be the one who sees the widows at the grave.
A channel for writing seems quite nice, but it is not me that writes
An unknown life inside my head give readers their delights.
Possessed not I, obsessed not close, but cluttered all the same
With thoughts and sounds that are not mine but no one else will claim
A line has been crossed, a levy broke, a curtain has been drawn
That separates my denial of every thing that is wrong.
It all comes now in waves of dread: the hearings of the minds
Of hearing with clarity what you are thinking and knowing every line.
I do not wish to know your thoughts, I do not wish to trespass
But something in you has invaded me and the two of us must clash.
I close my ears to block you out, yet you scream a silent rage
So deafening and violent I see your every stage.
I know you cannot understand that I can hear your thoughts
I find it hard to stop your clatter, your mind; it will not clot.
I understand that I am known by strangers who are seeking only truth
I wear it like a scarlet letter and they know I am living proof
That if you ask me about your life, or the things that lie in wait
In that very moment, I can clearly see your fate.
You ask, I tell and I see the horror that you feel
because you don’t know why You were drawn to me and dreadful knowledge revealed.
I do not want to wear this letter, I do not want this curse
For what I know in most cases is only the bitter worst.
Paranormal, medium, closet channel of the pen,
I would trade them all for a moments rest if I could never know the unknown again.

I was born this way my family admits, my difference has always been
something that we dont talk about for fear it will come again.