Winter Solitude

Little ripples of lost love dance across my surface but solitude keeps the water calm. Like ice upon the winter pond, not a single disturbance to be seen at all.

Yet I tire of this exile, this self imposed prison, but I forgot to forge the key when I made myself this cell.

The lock is one that I cannot open, the door does not exist. I know not how to free myself of this cage in which I persist.

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Searching for My End

Friends I’m sorry, but I’ve gone to meet my End. I found it within my room, weeping upon my bed, head buried in their hands. I could only ask the reason why, oh dear End of mine do you weep for what must be?

In response they told me I have found you, you have met your End and now your life is done. It is not the way it supposed to go, not the time that was chosen to be. Alas you met your End ahead of schedule, before the appointed time and it is your head that this fault lies for you sought me out this time.

I did indeed find my end, but only after seeking death. This grim old man with a friendly smile, all dressed in black. He stood about four feet high and had but a single tooth and yet he smiled so happily, this grandfather so grim. I told him what I sought and he shook his head.

You need not me you foolish boy, you’re looking for your end. You’ll find them one day and we’ll meet, but not before you’ve lived so long that we might meet as friends. Yet still I pestered and persisted and he shook his and said you mortals all the same, twins in death for you’re born with your end. You’ll see them when time is right, that life before your eyes. It’s not a life you remember but one that was left inside. So search out your end and call it by name, you’ll find it sure enough, but you’ll die that same day. Tell me this you foolish tired boy, why search at all, why look for your end? What makes you wish for the rest my death grants, that black oblivion?

I could only respond with a sad smile to the question of that old man, for my tears are dust on ashen skin, my eyes are wide with lack of sleep, I’m world weary and cannot eat. The screaming in my head is more than I can take, so I wish that my End can silence it for my sake.

This is pain has grown to great and I can’t bare it on my own. So I’ll bear it not at all for it’s my pain and I’m a selfish soul, I know not how to share it, for it’s all I own. All that’s left of me to give for I’ve given all I can, my happiness and my smiles, my laughter and my sorrow.

All that’s left to me is my pain, and I hold it close to my chest. I’ll give it to my end, and carry this burden with me into my rest. So I’ve met my End and it’s time to go, I’ve not got long to finish this story truth be told.

So I’ll finish it here and worry not my friends, as I wrote this I’ve managed something I’ve not managed in the last ten years at least. I smiled again, once last time, for you all to see, as I go to rest and sweet silence be left be, free of that screaming, that burning agony that resides in my mind.

Melancholy Sea

Shifting shades of seafoam green form the melacholy tides that wash over me.

I cannot undo this sorrowful sea, these darkened tides that may undo me.

I cannot see past the crashing waves or stormy skies that bar my way.

My vessel is failing, lost at sea, adrift in life and weary. Falling down, down to deep that to that silent abyss that promises sleep.

Something Lost/Never Found

I feel a pain, an echo of something lost and never found, a screaming searing a shattered soul.

I sit in shadows of something like sorrow, for that certain surrender I’ll never know, that I’ve never seen and will never show, that warm surrender of heart and soul.

That lovely listless like that loosens the grasping grip of grating life, that lights the shadows that shattered with strife.

I know the scream but not the whisper, I know the pain but not the touch, I’ve seen the light but live in darkness, in this cold sightless night.

I know so much but so little all the same, a life of empty knowledge, of seeing but never knowing the same.

Aging

As I grow and age I know the creaking joints and pain of cold.

Decaying form and thoughts go slow oh I hate this aging so.

Before my time I speed and go into the land of ages gold, the tarnish of youth polished to soon my form cracks and breaks, the weight too much to hold.

Both young and old forward I go, into tomorrow’s great unknown. With the silver of youth and ages unvarnished gold.

Echoes & Currents/Wanderer’s Demon

Echoes and currents of thoughts and ideas, of dreams that died and words left unsaid.

The regrets that haunt my sleep and rattle around inside my head.

Ephemeral currents of sadness too deep, of happiness unknown, and this anger I keep.

It’s like a ghost on my shoulder, the demon that speaks, it provides unspeakable inspiration, yet the cost is too steep.

The exile is lonely, the wanderer is cold, I stumble through this night, and all I want…

All I want is a home.