there is nothing scary about death, yet there is fear of it, much as no one likes it one bit. it could creep up to one in the still of the night, or run one down in the blink of an eye, or slowly drain the life out of one away without another knowing...
disintegrated fragments and a sea of lacryma it leaves behind, oft with regret lingering in the shadows. tales of sadness, of fallen trees, of desperation in the air. a cloud of serenity in serendipity.
death comes to us all, one day... some day... inevitable, play the game all must; and do what must be done, or be enslaved and a prisoner to oneself. there can be no breaking free, no man in motion, and neither is it a rational quotient.
hear the silence in the winds, and take on the cold solitude. a thin sheath of pain, or a thick wall to barricade. a surreal facade of unpredictability.
in the dark, a quiescent susurration beckons, and calls... Love me... Don't go...
No comments:
Post a Comment