Somewhere, this is nothing.
What is time but a never-ending string of moments that slipped away
Cold
In my hands
Soft
Through my fingers
Each day, gone
Before I knew it was mine.
Somewhere, I am nothing.
Is it comfort? Is it fear?
To lock eyes with a familiar face and know
She’ll disappear
Join the others
Lining up
To march away
Follow the light to God
Knows where.
Somewhere, we are nothing.
How obscure:
The Earth that birthed us, fed us
Breathed life into our lungs
Will consume us
With no mercy
Use our empty parts to make the flowers grow.
And somehow, we continue-
Like children playing on a train track, we wander
Through the darkness
By the calling
Of the light
Jun 26, 2018
Jun 26, 2018 at 2:45 PM UTC
Somewhere, this is nothing.
What is time but a never-ending string of moments that slipped away
Cold
In my hands
Soft
Through my fingers
Each day, gone
Before I knew it was mine.
Somewhere, I am nothing.
Is it comfort? Is it fear?
To lock eyes with a familiar face and know
She’ll disappear
Join the others
Lining up
To march away
Follow the light to God
Knows where.
Somewhere, we are nothing.
How obscure:
The Earth that birthed us, fed us
Breathed life into our lungs
Will consume us
With no mercy
Use our empty parts to make the flowers grow.
And somehow, we continue-
Like children playing on a train track, we wander
Through the darkness
By the calling
Of the light