Tag Archives: cry

Forgetful Moon


In a day a fading light,
The sun above, burning bright.
Attitude towards this and that,
I can’t remember where it’s at.
A sunset, a sunrise.
The full moon above me cries,
It will miss me, but I can’t see
Why she never remembers me.

The Tree of Knowledge

Into the night that may swallow whole
What fear we have and render silent the voices that may protest.
On deaf ears our crys fall,
An uncaring void, unwelcoming, and unable to
See how we fall, motionless,
Into the apathy of entropy that holds the universe in check.
What pride, what arrogance would grow rampant
Had not the tree of knowledge bestowed the gift of mortality.

A Necessity of Tears

Holding onto grief like wilting flowers,
Their beauty is not a gift just for you,
But me; for a passing of the hours.
We all hold our own wilting flowers, true,
So there is no reason to give you mine.
I’ll hold onto these as you do to yours,
One more won’t wilt; I won’t repay in kind.
I’ll keep mine to me, I won’t create more.
All flowers simply wilt before they dry.
This. When the waters they may need are tears,
It is what’s necessary when we cry.
One lets go of this, one lets go of fear.
This. How we heal, how we make flowers bloom.
How we refuse the hearts death and heal soon.

Nihilistic Optimism

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Life is pain and then you die.
Why should I bother to even try?
Days pass by quickly,uncaring.
They do not ask how I am fairing.
It makes no difference, this or that.
It won”t take much to see where I’m at,
In the ocean cold.
Slowly sinking, grasping soul.
Treading water just prolongs,
My end, the bottom, where I belong.

But life is joy before you die!
And joy and love! Still we cry.
Something so fickle and sweet as life
Becomes fermented and stale with time.
One should not wish it to be forever
That it should continue, ending never.
We all end up at the bottom it’s true
Before then I’ll be with you,
Spending the happy hours,
Loving, laughing, avoiding sour
Looks and words that would stain
Our souls if from within they came.

Let the day pass by so quickly!
I’ll not be one who, sickly,
Sits and waits and wastes the time,
What little we have, like a slime,
Trapped on the edge of the ocean, not in it,
Not loving life, but afraid of it.
Life is pain and darkness frightening,
The end comes quickly before the ripening.
In this small time, I’ll make the most
Never fearing the inevitable ghost.
No sorrow in death. It is and it must.
Then we live on, after first turning to dust.