What We Are

into nighttime dreams

you come,

soft and warm,

young and sweet,

a gentle reminder,

once there was life,

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 pass slowly,

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 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?

.

.