You lead, I'll follow
That's all I do, I follow where you lead; having no say for myself, I rely on
your direction to lead me through this bland itinerary we call life. Your smart
comments, ascorbic wit and cutting remarks all provide the crescendos, trills
and glissandos to this soundtrack I blindly listen to.
That's probably the most honest way to put it; it's a soundtrack. I play no part
in it and just simply observe and listen to the rich, dulcet tones with the
sharp inflections and lyrical aspect to the bass notes that leave your mouth.
Or a fine art painting; every curve and shadow captured forming a strange sort
of beauty to the black, dark sins and thoughts of society. The look of your face
as you sneer at the simple mindedness that the baser of the human race live in;
knowing that the media and social convention has formed them into cynical
machines with a twisted sense of beauty.
Then you sweep in like the fresh breeze as you swirl and encase me in your
world, the colour on the blank canvas as you stand out because you know no other
way to be, the pliƩ in a jive as you move and exist with such energy and an
unexpected grace, flitting through life without a care as you focus on your
objective.
Inadvertently, you grabbed me by the lapels and sheared me from my life, leaving
no hope of me returning to it; the edges so torn and frayed I wouldn't fit back
in to the space I left. You tugged me from the bleak existence I knew and opened
my eyes to the masterful violin concerto that is life.
Life where anything could happen, where nothing is what it seems, where you lead
and I'll follow.
