Thursday, June 21, 2012

The hand closes around the broken heart

Turning white and stiff

Squeezing that last bit of life from the core

Until they scream for more.

The screech of a hawk

Soaring over fear as if it were hard, rocky land

Which none can escape

For gravity sucks it in harshly.

Fall apart, dear

There is no such thing as hope

Just as there is no such thing as death

It is all a concept.

But who are we to talk of the universe

And all of its questions that remain unanswered

Words, that fall flat and dead

When they are used to explain such things.

Pure water, with some specks of dust

Trailing along the forest depths

No destination

Just wandering.

So where is the destination?

The place where all is light?

But where is the light when there is no dark?

And the dark when there is no light?