Saturday, April 26, 2014


This is the last of it
No more words
It’s all empty and meaningless
And beyond love or hope
The imperfection is palatable
The soaring lows bottomless
There are no ashes
For the Phoenix to rise from
Only dregs so sad and forlorn
Tears of futility
Dominate the landscape
Where from the void
Comes reckless death
Embroiled in hell
But kernels of truth can be seen
A dash of honesty
The reality is not all bleak
Because always there is
These thoughts and desires
That transcend somehow
The death of wonder
Love peaks through
And we can believe for a minute
That maybe

No comments:

Post a Comment