The birthing sun of the east, it rises with a certain beauty
Crawling like a new born into the sky, curiosity illuminating all it touches,
magnificence as I begin to feel the pureness.
I can see sun rays bursting through the window of my soul
shining down with its bottemless luminosity.
Light creeps into the depths of my blood pumping heart
and in that very moment it twists open to the warmth
like a blooming blossom in the gardens of my chest.
I take it all in at once and savor thee emotion that has filled me.
It is the rising of the sun, dawn of a fresh new beginning.
On the contrary,
its the wise sun of the west, its soft wisdom now puts my restless mind to bed.
Wrinkled in knowledege, beginning to ******* down by time
seeing the whole world while it slowly passed.
While sinking away it paints a glorious memorial never to be forgotten,
a canvas sky filled with tangerine oranges and lavander purples.
I become saddend by its goodbye, yet accepting at the same time
because the sun will be reborn the following day,
like a never ending galactic reincarnation of the ever lasting beauty it holds.

"I'm only half without you"
This statement I don't exactly understand
Because its not like that for me.
Without you,
I'm the morning sky without the sunshine,
The nightime sky without the stars,
Dark, and lifeless.
Without you,
I'm the ocean,
But without the salty waves,
Just a bottemless pit.
Without you,
I'm a garden
Full of plants and flowers that refuse to
Bloom and grow
Without you,
I'm snow that melts away
I'm the leaves that change
I'm the seasons that fade away
Without you,
I'm the same as the time
Simply passing everyone by
With no real purpose
Just a reminder that it all runs out
As you can see,
Without you,
I
  am
      nothing.

Poetry is the voice
Of the hearts too damaged
To speak the language
Of a people who are not healed
Or healing, but of those
Who were never tattered to begin with.
It is the opportunity
To convey a message
In the only way known,
By those of us who have
Lost touch with the world
And everyone inside it.
We are not yet healing, or healed,
But in the depths of our wounds,
Some of us more injured than others
Yet all in the same swirling
Bottemless pit of depression
And aching.
Depression- such a powerful word,
Though never drawing attention to oneself
WE are in this abyss
Of nothingness and lonliness
Swirling around each other,
Bumping into each other,  but never leaving.

Let's speak to this life
who's heart is not
at peace

These results
are stark
I think

Or

I can't see
beyond
my event horizon

There are just
no events
of note

Wait
retract that sorry fckr
rite there

there was
that night
with her

oh y eah
he thinks
again

so i am simple
an' bottemless
u?


Copyright@2019 Dennis Willis