Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dec 2017
The stilling of the mind,
so temporary and fine.

Grinding and breaking,
grounding and filling.
All things are turning,
and in for the making.

With contact, conception.
From perception, creation.
All ideas we have,
arise from destruction.

The bits and pieces of things once born,
the emptiness left when what's complete is gone.

Creation, Destruction,
Conception, Termination.
The cycle of things continue in procession.

For what's destroyed has pieces,
once put together,
containing within it a perfection beyond measure.

Thus things are recycled. ideas broken to create,
new things put together, what was once mashed by fate.

Piece by piece,
and part by part,
whats broken is complete,
like all things at the start.

So what does it matter,
when things fall apart?
We rebuild the beginning,
Right from the start.

To create a new future,
a story that is bright.
A series of advancements,
we all know is right.

Though we know we all die,
that things don't last forever.
Yet we do so happily,
knowing it will only get better.
Written by
OnyxSea
215
     Burning Lilacs and Mysidian Bard
Please log in to view and add comments on poems