I see the best minds of my generation,
destroyed by unrequited admiration.

All my friends have turned green.
The worst case of madness that I have ever seen.

With a hollow eye, iridescent glow
of infinite expendable information.

You are you.
You care about the little things;
About money and status,
About love and power.
You care about right now.
And about nothing more
     But there is so much more to see.

Take a step back
Now you are human.
Your place in society is precious.
You, just as everyone else, are worth something .
You care about justice,
About the state of your world
And it hurts you
     But you know you suffer less than others.

Take another step back
You are a body.
Your presence is replaceable and unfelt.
Your days are spent seeking pleasure and pain.
You live only to feel alive
Knowing that you’ll soon be dust blowing in the wind
And it makes you feel temporary
     But you last longer than you know.

On your last step back
You are a soul.
You feel no pain nor pity- nothing at all
You live in sickly silent peace
As you float aimlessly through time.
You are a piece of the universe
Hoping that the clocks will stop some day
And you will be called to rest
     But your piece in this universe will never die.

You are so much more than your shell.
You are the past, the present and the future
Embodied in a distracted human being.
You are every fibre of the universe that has created you.
You are eternal yet temporary
And it’s confusingly simple
     But you won’t realize your worth unless you *step back.

Back at the shore, on my own this time,
I'm free now, yes, but alone.
I'm left with nothing,
No pain,
No rhyme,
On a beach less sand than stone.


The tide still licks the shore for crumbs,
But nothing hides beneath.
No voice calls out in dark, feigned scorn,
No stoic secretly cries for release.


The world outside worked magic for real,
It promised us strength in identity,
But now I'm just beginning to feel,
There's actually something wrong with me.


I can't go back until I know,
That your death has served some purpose.
What chance is there, to survive and grow,
When even ghosts can hurt us?


"Perhaps", I said, "it's all unspoken", aloud,
To myself, discovering,
How words can wound but silence drowned,
A heart that's still recovering.