You remind me of someone from a half remembered dream,
A silhouette from an epoch
That I have journeyed through fleetingly.
And then beside these sempiternal embers
I indulge in a pestilenntial reminisce,
Of the antiquated aeon of camaraderie
When the befuddlement inundates my anima like a swinging ragde.
I have been spooring thy sigil,
Through this deranged tourney of metampsychosis,
Only to be impelled by your unequivocal,
Benightedness surrounding my subsistence.

Senseless.
Shapeless.
Restless.

Feelings that I wanted to flee
when the world went dark
It seems, I feel delighted every night
Totally alone, stuck in darkness' side.

Even now, I couldn't feel
the frozen ground
As I lay underneath a big old oak tree
I don't know if it is inhuman
to stay calm
When you couldn't find the beauty
of the things around.

I won't fret if the moon vanishes
from my sight
I'm thankful of the insects silenced
by the cold
I feel the emptiness run inside me
I can comprehend now the language
of pain.

I know, I'm an unconvincing feeble
Swallowed by world's benightedness
Trying to find an answer in all the miseries
Makes me feel that my life is so pointless.

Somehow, I wanted to go out of this
situation overnight
I wanted to view things to it's perfection
But again and again
I always end up in this prison cell.

I couldn't deny, I'm so cruel to myself
I always let intrusive thoughts intrude
In the vicinity of my consciousness
Because, I want to be a witness of this
Moonless Darkness.

To take from; to have taken away from
to catch; to be caught;
to conform; to make one conform,
We do nothing but repeat,
repeat these affirmatives and negatives.
We are fighting to keep ourselves from losing anything
and yet our places and the people we love
are certain to pass away.
And we are certain to be forgotten.

To live in vain is to be unhappy,
It is our benightedness in futility.
but even though knowing,
someday all we have would vanish so would our conscious,
knowing someday we will be gone so would our benignancy.
I still seek life grotesquely,
in this hope that I would decipher the beauty in a beating heart.
And so I choose.
I keep choosing.
I keep being chosen.
Some saying life is an overrated phenomenon,
sadly I disagree with that,
life has its essence in both its vagueness and chaos,
life has its essence in both its reality and ethos.
This is my last letter to nature,
this is my last letter celebrating the futility of life.