Our lives are like a book,
shredded on life's miry lane,
scattered like soot,
into the virginity of the skies
we're like hooks,
on holiday from the river banks,
hibernating like a seed in the floor,
only waiting to beautifully die,
in order to sprout lovely buddings
like bubbles traveling separately
away like never before
We're like a swift arrow in motion,
bound for a voyage,
of no return.
we're on an Odyssey,
from the lips of the womb,
to the comfort of the grave,
unraveling and unfurling,
like a secret to the open ears
of life? Of course
Our conquest is ended,
like fumes dances to a quench,
when the candle is doused
our footsteps lost without a trace,
on dampened soils,
and gentle clouds
bygoned like a forgotten kiss
on the edge of the heart
with no traces at all
The beginning is but the end,
a revival to awaken zombies,
life's but a speed to unwanted places,
where enigma dwells,
sporadically shooting
like a million drizzle,
on the mildness of the jojoba,
at the end we're fading into a facade,
smiling into our demise
having lived to live no more.
