The dead don’t rise, but he does
Like awakening from a dream
And realizing that the only eternal thing
In this decaying universe is himself.

The body looks the same
The ash on his tongue possesses the same flavor as at the time of death,
A goal that will elude him unlike the rest
Who will never be trapped by the fear
Of their actions haunting them forever.

your passive immortality
will bring you nowhere,
but back to me.

I support truth,
in that,
I confess I’d rather
be immortal
& forget everyone
I’ve ever met.

Today,it rained.
I sat down at my piano,
And composed her an apology.

The patter of rain.

I looked outside,
And saw a tempestuous spillage of emotions,
And an unambiguous uttering of poetic truth;
That I never could discover on my own–
I saw the trees tell me explicitly.
God has His ways.
It was one.

I never would have guided,
My ever-so-guarded heart–
To yield with all honor retained,
And accept this silent insatiable feeling–
Love.
It always had been love;
That defeated time,
In the want of immortality,
In the pursuit of eternity;
That was abundant in scarcity,
And that sat like one timid angel,
In the abyss of my heart,
And lit it up.

Today, it rained.
I sat down at my paino,
And felt eternal in the silence between the notes.

Tomorrow, it will rain.
I will sit down at my piano,
And sing a song to the moments of eternity,
That God makes us experience,
Wearing this mortal suit;
In the name of love.