The Book of Ages

When freedom fails
The sweeping generations come
With their war of words.
It serves a purpose
For the ones who care
To know their last rights.
Divine plight spelled out,
In lights so bright.
To challenge the sun and win
Takes the courage of ages
Or the determination of fools.
A bitter word
Said in haste...

When freedom fails,
Those who know
Those not consumed by apathy
Find the costs overwhelming
A twilight star
Paints a picture
Abstract and unnerving.
Completely overwhelming
The cosmic implications
Written in the book of ages
Not intended for our eyes.
Words written in red,
"Death is not always the end."

Ultimate End

Pacify my sadness,
Turn down the heat.
Let the inner plights simmer.
Forget rationality, forget practicality.
Go along as all is well,
Forget that all is virtual hell.

Descend into the depths.
Play games with my soul
Don't answer when I call
Turn down your attention
Wallow in the white noise
Pass on your regrets.

Let infidelities continue
Damage my heart completely.
Tell me that you love me
Help me die inside.
Lower me into the grave
Eyes open, I see you smile.

All the while I sleep.
I can't feel.
I can't breathe.
I will not be pure.
Like the autumn leave,
I too wish to be reborn.

Free

I want to be free

As the flower falls

From the tree

Of life it seems.

Or the stream

Cascading toward an end.

Maybe as the light

Springs from the dawn.

Perhaps as a breeze

Changes from North to East.

Or how I feel in your arms

Content and at ease.

I want to be free.

Two Acts, One Life

Pen to paper,
Paper to pen.
An anachronistic, flawless look
at an entity wrought with flaws.
A mediocre film of proportions lacking.
Epic failures woven into one successful caste.
Like the filth of ages strewn about
You embody this sentiment...

As the waves crash upon the surface
The depths of your character are not discernible.
Unreliable at best, most often fragile.
So much so that the love you've created
Is eclipsed by the struggles; devoid and unripe.
It is as if you can't see your life
Although it is reflected back after every move.

So be it,
And so shall it be:
A two act story,
A penniless pursuit.
There is neither a cast
Nor audience to be seen
For the curtain has closed.
The show will not go on.
A bitter end to a craven life
Which was never allowed fruition.