Personal :: Poetry

A Theism

I am a prisoner of the red wind-
The roads I travel whisper
Of death beneath the bright
Adventure of life-
Like rust on iron.
I am untouched by the
Warmth of love-
Chanting heavily through young blood
Or sighing soft as a breeze
In the hearts of the old.
I see only the shadows
And the dispelled night
Brought by the sun.
And my heart is nothing by ashes.

I drown in a black ocean.
The fires that fuel me
Burn cold as winter.
I hear the bitter pain
In laughter, and the cruelty
That made the jest funny.
I see the folly of youth,
The desperation of age.
I hear the screams in poetry-
The breathless pleas for purpose
In what seems to be meaningless.
I hear the stutter and cough
Of a clockwork world winding down
As entropy leaches order
to Chaos.
What I see-
What I am prisoned in-
What I choke on-
Is a universe without

.: :: personal :: poetry :.