Patty Matos's Page

To get to the end you have to start at the beginning
And more than anything I know
This is not the beginning of the end but the end of the beginning
Or somewhere through it, nevertheless
I’m not done, not nearly done yet

The seasons and the light out are in for a change
The scenery shifts and bends against its edges
If you look close enough it signals
If you hear intently it speaks

Until you see, until you listen to your fingertips
Frostbitten and stripped to white bones
The most silent passen… Continue

I liked the way you kept to yourself
The handiwork and workings of your head
How you captured the streaking winter skies
And filtered them through your pen
I can only with to say the things I can’t aloud
Scribble out in tongues and then make sense of it

Is it even necessary?
Why must it all make sense?
What makes meaning such a vital part of ourselves?

So I watch you, I ask myself

You took the crisp air of morning
And with it you strung your guitar
Don’t worry about it now, we’ll make sense o… Continue