dreams and poses,
midnight roses,
those words of repose,
somehow this flow I keep composing,
everyday the pain of the gangrene limbs decomposing,
up shit creek with no paddles we keep on rowing,
the sharpness of one’s mind never growing,
the cup of life overflowing,
all seeing, all being, and all knowing,
unsure of a destination yet we keep on going,
tidal thoughts are ebbing and flowing,
songs of dispair and of hope onward going,
the sadness we’ve stopped showing,
the reaper’s seeds now sowing,
ever wishing for a perfect moment,
that essence of trust,
of humility and of love,
of wonder, of life,
to the apex we together and apart,
an end we are strolling.