All that remains: here in my afterlife as a 'mainstream' blogger, with what little I know. |
Attention to punctuation and form later... Your glass top world, My cage, Where I plot my escape To seek immortality Where you hide. I want to be inside. So beautifully made up, Willfully I suspend Disbelief That you won't be with me. I glimpse the reflection In the glass Ugly, attentive viewer, But my eyes Won't lie to myself Anymore The dream is dying. Too old, too worn down To absorb these images Once as beautiful as my own In cracked, fading photographs. You still sing to me. My ears deceive, too. But, I'm learning Experience is about the past There can be no fairytales When beginnings are just endings Of what we seek. It's been so long, I don't know what I seek Anymore? Is it you, or Who I used to be Filled with as yet Unrealized potential? Your glass top reality Could be even more saddening. I don't know why I pine. It may mean I am near The end of my time And we never danced, Truth and immortality. Sing me another song? Shed a tear So I know We share the same vision Together in eternity. We're all alone (together) while dying, amid a sea of unrequited love washing away our memories. |