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2d · 25
As fate wills it
A phantom, painted in flesh, a work of art,
Nurtured by a mother's loving heart.
Moulded by divine hands, a perfect form,
Cooled by gentle breezes, serene and warm.

Grounded, unshaken, a pillar of grace,
A modest soul, a pure, innocent face.
Walls higher than standards, an attitude stern,
A dreamer, a doer, a fire that burns.

But fate, a cruel mistress, denies our wish,
A love story unwritten, a tragic abyss.
Eden's garden remains, untouched, unseen,
The last supper, a dream, a fleeting scene.

Buried beneath layers of wonder and myth,
A tale of what could be, a bittersweet gift.
The poet, a lone soul, picks himself up,
And silences the words, a bitter cup.

As fate decrees, the story remains untold,
A secret locked away, precious and bold.
I've learned a lesson, a hard truth, it's true,
Desire and longing, futile and new.

So let's bid farewell to this dream, this art,
And embrace the future, with a hopeful heart.
May you find love, true and deep,
And may your journey be peaceful and steep.
Nov 4 · 25
QLC
Mahlogonolo Nov 4
QLC
There's a war going on inside
Exchanging hands with time
Its getting intense with time

Mother Earth weeps
As her son sleeps
In the puddle of his dreams
for weeks
Wondering in fantasy and what ifs

A plane grounded by doubt
Doubt sowed by opinions
Opinions informed by ignorance
Ignorance dressed up as wisdom

Now, dust calls home where once lived hope
Hands of time are catching up to him
Handing eviction notices to ambition
The daily grind dulling his edginess
Responsibility culling his happiness

And now he reaches a fork on the road
To either chase the excitement of discovery
Or welcome the lukewarm embrace of routine …
a true quarter life crisis

— The End —