Jul 2014
Ease my mind, my mother,
How can I be nothing of something?
And yet something of another,
I have been the shadow cast aghast against the deathly dew of subtle spring,
The band, the bind, on the finger of my lifeless lover,
Living in death as everything does in nothing,
This ship, in voyage on the endless seas of the perpetually found and the always undiscovered,
Oh, if things were only simple, simple thing
I go to sleep, with the whisper of my dying lover,
Hoping to be born again into a life that I would rather,
Rather, than waking where she is alive but I am gone,
I do not want to be just another other,
To keep searching for your ghost’s gasp of life recovered,
Waning moon please replace this unwelcome dawn, where she does not belong,
Help me begin to believe again my brothers,
Must I be everything unuttered?
Must I be everything’s nothingness left to suffer?
Muttering madness that is incessantly reset and uncovered
I admitted everything in that whisper you won’t let me forget,
It echoes in my head, this ferocious thunder consumed in my regret,
But you never heard a single sound,
Nor the pound of things left unsaid that this lightning writes upon the ground,
You believe what you would rather, rather see but in resent,
Repenting religious slurs into a mirror that only blurs and can’t reflect,
Reflect on what you’d rather, rather than accept what you refuse has long been found,
That there is no going up and there is no going down,
That life and death are ties to be cut and left to be unwound,
And seemingly, neither has no end, but both come back around,
That this road we walk which does not seem to bend,
Is but the beginning and the cease, our adversary and our friend,
To the broken and the certain of which neither we can mend,
Though fight it all or fall, it all depends on you,
Upon you being everything and nothing,
Upon you giving up or choosing to pursue,
To be given definition in this persistent something,
Or consumed by unknowable things you do or do not do,
Do or don’t in this everything,
It all depends on you
How can I be nothing of something?
And yet something of another,
I have been the shadow cast aghast against the deathly dew of subtle spring,
The band, the bind, on the finger of my lifeless lover,
Living in death as everything does in nothing,
This ship, in voyage on the endless seas of the perpetually found and the always undiscovered,
Oh, if things were only simple, simple thing
I go to sleep, with the whisper of my dying lover,
Hoping to be born again into a life that I would rather,
Rather, than waking where she is alive but I am gone,
I do not want to be just another other,
To keep searching for your ghost’s gasp of life recovered,
Waning moon please replace this unwelcome dawn, where she does not belong,
Help me begin to believe again my brothers,
Must I be everything unuttered?
Must I be everything’s nothingness left to suffer?
Muttering madness that is incessantly reset and uncovered
I admitted everything in that whisper you won’t let me forget,
It echoes in my head, this ferocious thunder consumed in my regret,
But you never heard a single sound,
Nor the pound of things left unsaid that this lightning writes upon the ground,
You believe what you would rather, rather see but in resent,
Repenting religious slurs into a mirror that only blurs and can’t reflect,
Reflect on what you’d rather, rather than accept what you refuse has long been found,
That there is no going up and there is no going down,
That life and death are ties to be cut and left to be unwound,
And seemingly, neither has no end, but both come back around,
That this road we walk which does not seem to bend,
Is but the beginning and the cease, our adversary and our friend,
To the broken and the certain of which neither we can mend,
Though fight it all or fall, it all depends on you,
Upon you being everything and nothing,
Upon you giving up or choosing to pursue,
To be given definition in this persistent something,
Or consumed by unknowable things you do or do not do,
Do or don’t in this everything,
It all depends on you
