There is no more.
There never was.
The only answer: just because.
We live, we breathe.
We feel, we die
There is no reason why.
We seek, never to find.
We’re mean, we’re kind.
We’re short, we’re tall.
Light or heavy, we all fall
back into another mood
that’s never right at all.
Shall we rail against fate
and rage against
the injustice of it all? Shall we tell in
piteous voices of our pain? Or rather,
will we simply welcome silence once
again; marveling as peace surrounds
this sound of emptiness.
We met, we blessed, we loved,
We laughed, we cried, and these, our lives
still echo somewhere mid the noise
of every silent night. Until the silence
overwhelms itself again, yet still not
knowing what to say, or how to speak
the words that someday might just
make a difference to us all.
Shall we tell it in a tale
of some great
epic poetry, experienced for centuries
by all humanity? Or perhaps a song,
sung sweet and strong, might begin in
a transcendence of their great unuttered
needs, to take them to a final realm
We might hide within the growing
that walk, somnambulistic, through their
lives; droning never quite become a moan;
as robot-like, our lives are measured by a
stream of productivity. Yet what will all
the produce mean when we and it just
fade again into the everything?
Angels sing great sorrow now
for all we knew is reaching for the end
of its beginning; moving, ghostlike, through
the warmth of every sunny day. We cry,
we preach, we pray – so long, so long
since any deity has dared to answer.
And even angels fade away
into a mist
of timelessness; for time does not exist in
this forever; nor want, nor need, nor great
desire. No passion flares, for all our passion
has been spent on tears of youthful innocence
that can’t be found within the rounds of this
one life we choose to live.
Another sigh, and then we
fall into the void
we have created; where nothing can abate
the hollow feel that we deem real, and there
is nothing left to be explained at all. We came,
we went, we flew, we fell – that’s all.
There is a feel of lifelessness
bustle of the many crowds; great loneliness
amid the groups of people grasping, groping
for a clue. Still no one knows just what to do
to fill this emptiness.
Their desperation is so obvious;
through their days of stress, claiming still
an innocence in their obedience; but their
innocence now lies in state; awaiting one
last moment of funereal obeisance.
Bright, the sun will shine
on high; birdsong
singing sweetly through the air; grass so
green, its sheen melts into almost everything;
while there they stand, around a long dug
hole within the ground, almost ready now
to enter there; just one last time, to bury
what they really feel inside.
All eyes are dry, until the
bugle starts to play;
and then one tear begins a flood that shakes
their world downside up and outside in. For
never will they know again that sparkling sense
of numbing innocence, as they watch it slowly
bleed its way into a grave, whose marker bears
the name of nevermore...
? Michaelette ?
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home...