Tag Archives: die

Behind an Open Door


If only tomorrow would fail to come
And this burden from her chest were lifted,
There was no end, this day were simply done,
This were the number of her days gifted.
There was sleep she sought, and the sleep sought her,
Flattering, that the void felt incomplete.
Eternity and nothing now a blur,
Like the moment a dog dies in the street.
She sits there and thinks and opens her eyes,
And stares at the next soul who might save hers.
So many moments, this too passes by,
What if she’s made to go on as a curse?
Unique. Never again, never before,
She tries to hide behind an open door.

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Empty walls

Empty walls and clear blue skies,
We both grow old: the building and I.
The bricks crumble, leave dust behind.
Who dies first? Me or these walls?
Abandoned brick and mortar fall
Long after my last scrawl.
Both without purpose die alone.
To give and give love we find our home,
In helping each other we find our own.

Observing Tide

An angel looked dismayed as they were walking by,
In the morning light reflected off of pools of blood collecting flys,
Buzzards, vultures, coyotes, and the occasional hyena.
No longer to delay,
Awake another blood-filled day,
Out of the sea; the five heads of the beast were screaming.
No one asked for the heroes,
And thought of them as zeros
While they were fighting the beast that didn’t need exterminating.
Morning came again with the red tide.
So many fallen that should not have died,
From ignorance alone,
The beast called the sea his home.
And so will many more after this reading.
Cheers to the callous fools who have no feeling.
I do not often see red tide retreating.

Or So I’m Told


I had died atop a wall and my grave found me smiling.
I died not from the fall, but in the change of dying.
Form to form, now not the same.
As one who sleeps through winter
No snow on my eyes fallen,
As in death there is no winner.
Through seasons of my body? No,
Through seasons of my soul.
My former self has died, but I
Shall live on or so I’m told.

My Ego Death

I am more than the sum of my parts,
More than this limiting human form.
My ego death, each one before it,
Are just pieces of me that die.
I am something new each day,
Each sun that rises has a thing new to say.
There will be darkness mixed with light,
The something new could be imperfect, it might.
With briefly nothing to adore,
My ego death will find me waiting,
And I won’t be me, anymore.

As Mortal as Reality Falls

It’s where few of us lie, aiming
Beyond the illusion of what we can see,
Far past the barrier
Of what we can’t be.
There our dreams, goals, and wishes,
Not far from our reach.
Across the nothing, a bridge
To what we can’t yet complete.
Across the gap, this void of ignorance,
There is a voice that calls,
“Time is as finite as its observer
And as mortal as reality falls.
Do not be saddened, we all must die,
That’s what makes our time here precious,
An immortals time is nothing,
As an infinite store of gold: worthless.”
It matters not if the illusion is real,
Or the barrier can’t be moved past,
What’s important is we try and fill
Each moment with what then lasts.
Time is as finite as its observer,
And as mortal as reality falls,
Our lives are adolescence to eternity,
Before our names, that voice, does call.

No Peace.

She laid her once holy blade in the mud,
Raised her hand to shield her eyes from the sun,
To gaze across a wasteland soaked in blood.
She looked for her brothers, for survivors, anyone,
Naught but frozen, lifeless eyes met her gaze.
Thousands and thousands marched with her from home,
So quickly torn from their halcyon days,
To the final resting place for their souls.
For herself she weeps, not so much the dead.
Her price? No release for herself to find.
For such a price, can “This is peace.” be said?
She mourns for the world that she’ll leave behind.
There’s no absolution in crimson tide.
There is no peace where so many must die.