We who would write, Beautiful recollections, And strange perceptions, We need not suffer. All too soon, Does this specter beckon, With lovely lies, Which fill our hearts. We need not mourn, Not for the future, though, Perhaps for the past, If only at peace, at last. For, sadness speaks, No man would doubt this, But smiles sing, And calmness cures. Our futures, This life in our words, It is not sorrow. It is not simple, It is not single. It is life; True life.
How far you’ve wandered, Tempted as Helen was, Or, stolen away, Yet, returned to us. How fare you glow now, In this simple, summer day, Bled of excess, outstretched; Clothed in skin and sunlight. Stay as long as you like, There is no time here. As sure as rain shall fall, Or rivers flow, Forever stands our home, Enchanted by distance, Forgotten with fondness, Attuned by silent musicians.
It is with breath That we draw inward, And, with relief, Release our hold. Yet, some of us remain, Clutching our chest, And curling comfortably Around our fires. We nestle like infants, As our spirits grow Within our veins And through our minds. A child of wonder, We see all anew. Dazzling lights, Lovely thoughts. Until, at once we see Within, we are trapped Docile and paralyzed, Begging to exhale.
Largely undecided, A blue moon grew Rising to the east beside us. And who knew The truth confided behind cloudy blooms, This night, in June, Shyly hiding, Inside the icy blush of pensive silence. Too soon, Our goodbyes, Consumed the empty skies.
If you asked me Where lays my pride I’d say in a grave Next to my lies. If you asked me How were my days I’d say nearly all Were painfully dull. If you asked me Where it went wrong I’d say that my fall Began in my skull. If you asked me Where went my dreams I’d say, with a breeze, They were strangled by me.
Do you believe, that gods can bleed? Have you seen enough, to conceive of, divine mortality? What would it mean for us? We who must develop love Of vulnerability, Of blood, Of death. All so we may draw our final breath in peace, with our minds, and our dreams, drifting in the cosmic seas of infinite night, and lovely, lonely starlight.