What We Are

into nighttime dreams

you come,

soft and warm,

young and sweet,

a gentle reminder,

that once there was life,

once there was more

than met the eye,

proud and unwavering,

a warrior ready for battle,

full of strength and tomorrow;

now I can only remember,

now I can only dream;

these years slowly pass,

what pompous,

self-righteous creatures are we,

climbing slippery slopes,

passing judgment,

determining sentence,

drawing lines in the sand,

never seeing beyond all

that we know,

never knowing more

than what we are;

forever trapped,

behind these bars

of flesh and blood;

words come slow,

out here in this forgotten land,

I sleep a sleep

that is no sleep,

I live a life

that is no life,

I die a death

that is no death,

darkness fills the void,

the world goes on,

despite the absence,

bubbling to the surface

in spite of the loss;

is it really just pretend?

is it really something more?

.

.