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Craven Apr 2016
That which is lost
Is never found
When discovered it is
Not what we lost
But rather a sense of discovery
Fading as we grasp
Until we lose it again
To be lost and found
A struggle inside ourselves
Do we wish to be lost and
sought after
Or found and discarded
Craven Apr 2016
To grasp rather than take in
Defines the inevitable.
Loss will occur.
Being unavoidable.
Lacking precedent, devastation will follow.
Life will spring forth.
Born from wreckage anew.
Until the inevitable
We are born weak but remolded
By the inevitable
Not in likeness but a casting
Of former self
With subtle changes
Provided by the inevitable
Stronger or weaker we are remade
Until the inevitable
Fighting the change brought about
We deny the hand dealt
Asking for another or the one
We had before
Until the inevitable
Lashing out against the form
We seek measures to prevent
To stop
To achieve understanding
Until the inevitable
We grasp the pattern
We see the end
Expecting the inevitable
Until
Craven Apr 2016
It is deafening
That which has no sound
It pulls me closer with intrigue
Yearning for inclusion
I mimic in hopes of understanding
Loosing balance as I near
Falling
Only to understand
The sound it makes
As I give it ear
Realizing that with presence of mind
I give it sound
Striping away its beauty
Craven Apr 2016
We are not meant for it
Yet I seek it
To drown the world around
To escape the thoughts of others
I delve into a vastness that can consume
Driven to the edge I yearn to jump
To take that leap
To be surrounded by it
And yet I still sit in proximity
To those abound and frightened by it
Who have yet seen what it can bring
Echoing from down the way
As if heard from across the void
It breaks through
I seek the silence too
Craven Apr 2016
Cold thoughtless projections of envy and self-doubt
Consume the essence of being or feeling something
As I explore I find it deeply rooted throughout
A gestation of despair that springs forth life
A life I let take hold and strangle hope
A void left to be filled
Upon seeing the new shape I shrink from existence
Existing only as thought in the void
I cling in hopes of springing forth to conquer
Shapeless thoughts that control
I have lost that which drove me and in so losing
I have been driven to a form not seen or heard
Only feeling as the procession of new life passes
Found in the void I must once again take the strength
Given by that which I was molded and drive back
New life which seeks to control
Craven Feb 2016
It was not the words that were said
or the anger in the voice.
It was the silence
when I knew
it was
over.

— The End —