From Here To Oblivion
Whore worn and broken
There is no sunrise that I can see
As time draws me in and a cold silence orbits
The adventitious essence that is me
No kiss could cure this pain endured
No companion could set it free
For betwixt the womb and the deathbed's tomb
Are the pestilent bellows of misery
What phenomenon, bliss or rapture
Could ever recompense the ruin
When all that springs to life, consequently dies
While in every breath, it blooms
And how can one hold on
To ardent memories or hope
Existing only in ignorance to devour the void
While aware its darkness will consume you whole
I have heard the cries of a church bell ring
But never the voice of a seraph sing
Still the credulous flock as the observant stall
To disengage delusion from the dream
We are made of dust and what is, but doesn't matter
Seeking a return to the stars
But only to settle into our shallow graves
And we all live sadly never after
Β
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Comments
This poem, especially the last sentence resonates deep within me, the fear that is nothing, or worse, something that is beyond our control, a life after death only to find we still are here, wondering around in spirit, to be called for help by a medium to a loved one in trouble and tell them we are here but it's a lie, a lie to protect the invention of free will.
I'm rambling now, sorry.
I really loved your poem, it spoke to me.
Thank you ever so much, Gerard! You're not rambling, your perspective is very interesting, thank you.
Awesome write Ian. it always makes my day to read your ingenious wordplay!
Thank you ever so much, Lisa! Now you've made my day.
WoW.....thx
Thank you Lorris! You're too kind!