it's our time.

so quick the pen touches the page.
this is the way it's supposed to be.
these words flow from my head
to my fingertips
without a layed out plot
or a planned out thought.
screaming of truth in each scribbled word
so it comes naturally
these ryhmes and rhythms.
the tips of my fingers
eagerly putting to paper
what I can't even speak.
my eyes see and my fingers speak.
of glory that doesnt match a description.
so let-
if only one thing-
let this count.
the way you feel.
the way things look.
appear.
seem.
let it count.
with every ounce of your soul.
let it count.
though our hearts cant make sense of it
and our minds dont care to try.
a small moment of glory.
this is it.
this is truth.
and this,
this is where we collide.