Floating in an expanse, trapped in a room
the walls could be the ends of a universe,
or a martyr's doom,
and I count the atoms of its shifting embrace
it dances within sight, but ever out of reach
truer things have never been more curious
the walls are my castaway beach.
Endless journeys coil within me,
my mind is a boundless jungle:
the predators linger in hazy umbra,
while the prey lazily graze
with eyes diametrically opposed.
I am some sort of misshapen construct,
a being lost to himself, but a target nonetheless.
****** into the deep
from which secrets sweetly seep
I find answers to keep
demystifying puzzles caged by sleep
the malice in this wonderland
nibbles at the soul with perilous teeth
just to taste the suffering
of a man who's trapped beneath
beneath the undergrowth of the city
within the fissures of a sidewalk
betwixt the folds of a chewing gum wrapper
he is gnawed by the everafter,
the what if,
the may be,
maybe.
Perchance he truly listened to the bright void
oh, how it oozes soft, eldritch light
the essences of somber dealings with ethereal misfits,
whatsay he consumed the knowledge whose
questions
once consumed him?
We all imagine that he would be
empty of emptiness...
but is there such a thing?
So, this is me just thinking about how I'm always stuck questioning why life is life. How did I end up here?
We're meant not to question this concept to the point of delusion, but I find myself daily deluded. As if seeking the answer can open a door from which I can escape.
My friend, do you believe in a transcendent escape free of death?
Maybe...
And with that, enjoy!
DEW