In waking sleep we all expire,
remote organics built to tire –
searching lusts for something more
to fill our souls beyond our core
We lay awake inside a dream,
asleep within a constant stream,
alone, in part, to wander, lost,
with passing time our only cost
We play as shadows holding hands
with eyes wide closed and few demands,
our every moment briefly clashing;
fast forgotten memories flashing
Here, we count down from our birth
with time a thief upon this earth –
purpose teased at every corner,
Chinese Whispers our informer
But all will realise when we’re gone
that we were dreaming every song –
that death becomes another story;
a painless world of allegory
I fear we write this book forever
as single pages bound together
to lay inside our reader’s minds
in passing paragraphs of time
Jan 20, 2017
Jan 20, 2017 at 3:34 PM UTC
In waking sleep we all expire,
remote organics built to tire –
searching lusts for something more
to fill our souls beyond our core
We lay awake inside a dream,
asleep within a constant stream,
alone, in part, to wander, lost,
with passing time our only cost
We play as shadows holding hands
with eyes wide closed and few demands,
our every moment briefly clashing;
fast forgotten memories flashing
Here, we count down from our birth
with time a thief upon this earth –
purpose teased at every corner,
Chinese Whispers our informer
But all will realise when we’re gone
that we were dreaming every song –
that death becomes another story;
a painless world of allegory
I fear we write this book forever
as single pages bound together
to lay inside our reader’s minds
in passing paragraphs of time
© Tamara Natividad
www.pisceanesque.com
Written 21 January, 2017
