the storm clouds gather,
rising on the distant horizon;
this new place,
this other reality,
this far off land where
nightfall never ends;
what is left?
what more can be said?
does no one listen?
does no one hear?
does the madness never end?
today I would have given
you everything,
yet nothing is all you took,
tomorrow’s troubles
brings fresh sorrows
all their own,
as freshly killed bodies,
float like chum on the surface,
devoured by ravenous lizards,
frantically joining in the
morning frenzy;
I wish it were not so;
this life is no life,
it changes and rearranges,
ebbing and flowing,
never coming to completion,
creations of a creator,
children of light
trapped within the darkness,
temporary, transient
and conciliatory,
blinded to the truth hidden
before our eyes;
the great illusion
we choose to believe;
deceiving and being deceived,
wounding and being wounded,
hurting and being hurt,
feeding off the leftovers,
running for the scraps;
hiding within the cracks.
.
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