My soul now slowly breaks
Off into the cold nothingness,
The abyss glows ever powerfully
Like a phosphorescent wind,
Glowing like auroras dancing
In the winter skies of my desolation.
And yet I have found meaning
In the darkest of days.
When the clouds of death and chaos
Descends upon me like a raging storm,
Gushing, overflowing, in torrents, tormenting.
In the arms of comrades I gather my strength,
To dismantle the despair eating my lungs,
Keeping me from breathing the stardust
Raining down from the ashes of god
The unholy hour will soon be on its head!

I am not writing about the end of times,
   because the end is near
Or the mere presence of it, out there peeking,
   from the swaying curtains of of the midnight sun
A haunting aura of eternal despair,
  slowly walking towards my mortal shell
Exposing my mortal pretensions, threatening, frightening
I am not writing about the end of times,
I am writing about me as I face annihilation;
   as my soul anticipates the crash, the big bang,
the unceremonious end!

The watch has ended its usefulness -
Time is on a stand still and every second
Is dragged into a long deafening silence
As each drop multiplies into long synapses,
Until it ceases to exist, and implodes due to its nonexistence.
There is  a quiet disquiet of encased thoughts
Amid the flashing fluorescence of multi-colored
Memories of the heralding of the new dawn,
As the cold contemptuous swings of air
Rushes through the derelict stations the mind,
As a spirit haunting, in search of reason and meaning,
Or in search for a beginning and an end.
Journeying through byzantine conduits
Scouring the space for a panacea for eternal returns.

And I am here in my lonesome
Waiting for ghosts to haunt me in my waking,
I'm itching to hear them drag their heavy footsteps
My ears ring in the absence of their whispers.
Now my heart has stopped, not because of death
But because death has lost its meaning.
I have lost my mind as I have lost my edge
In writing long drawn out sentences
For the consumption of the absurd - an offering
To the deep abyss of thoughts .
I have turned into a dull blade in my futile attempt to cut
Through the dense meat of time and space
Pining for a piece of tender reality
Ghosts are dead, memories have faded,
And all I have left is this profound vacancy.

Remind me of thunders,
Of feverish longing
For the sun's wrath.
Of waves claiming
The shores of a
Perverted land.
When wrought iron gates
Still keep the monsters from
The peoples wrath.
Let the wind air music
That echoes the raucous chant

Remind me of the lightning
Striking the ivory tower.
Of fire and steel
Penetrating shallow *******,
Disturbing the stillness
With our loud footsteps
Heard deep into
Their midnight sleep.

May the uncomfortable sound
Wake them from slumber deep
May the riotous noise excite
The weary, the dead, and the meek
May our fists raised, storm the heavens
And drag it down into the streets.
May the fog that had cloaked the land
Be forever banished into the depths of history
And a new history of men be born
From the crumbling ashes of the old world.

It is now the moment I feared,
When the ghoulish arms of time
Slowly drags me closer into the precipice of life.
Let the ignorance from that eternal return be
Cloaked with happiness, with memories of joyous youth.
Let the lightness of the clouds
Slowly rock me to that never ending sleep.
Let the winds give me wings
And sway me as the feather sways lightly,
As the long shadows of the setting sun inches into the dark abyss
And may the journey back be
Calmer than the riotous marching bands of life.

Midnight light, will you goad my eyes
   into the unbelievable sereneness of sleep,
And hush into silence the sleepless trucks
   that lines the expanding horizon;
The bicycle man rests his head on his saddle
   dreaming of bombing descents and leg stretches,
   and the hot streaming aroma of consciousness
   on gradient hilltops overlooking blazing mountains
   passing the silence of the lakes;
Carefully cruising along the highways of the mind,
   going into the light, and ecstasy, and madness;
Revolving, recurring, returning
   into deep slumber then onto the frantic going,
   along the wearisome expanse of flatland purgatories
   then onto the doorsteps of mighty heaven,
   rising up into the chill clouds of eternity and nothingness.
I am awake! and Fortuna's capricious wheel is now turning,
   now I shall rest my future-looking for my going is now
   unfolding!

You were there in the driver's seat of memories,
Inching your way through the roads and side streets of life,
Through laughters and chaos and the dull traffic lights.
Witness to the rising and falling of the heavens,
And ears to the after-midnight realizations of men.
Radiant in your losing and finding,
The transient souls passing the doors of your wakeness.
And the sun and rain and hail and the gusts of wind never breaks,
The soul that keeps you alive O' old glory.
Now, as the moments pass from finitude into infinity
When the frantic going turns into a deep peaceful sleep,
May your twilight be as colorful as the red sun's mirage over the horizon,
And may your dreams be as animated as your waking life!