Lost words of a poet


They smiled each day
As Humility made them stronger
The meek and amiable voice
Wasn’t heard.
The gazes of satire
On filthy inhumanity
From the large windowpane
And words deformed into meaning
Time couldn’t rob them of
From who they were.

The remains of those lost words,
Incite us to embrace an illusion,
Of time, being in a scurry.
As we cross paths
That unite us
With our mortal being,
The wanderer mocks at us
Steer us towards the light
Away from this misery.

Few lives we live
And for few
We outlive decades,
For the selfless
Mere blood and flesh
To ourselves, we deceive.

In this land of grief and fear
We die and reborn
From the ruins
Of those lost poets
And the souls
Who lived a life
Of discontent and drear.

Edge of Emptiness

Emptiness is inside us, yes
It amuses us.
For an instant so serene,
It holds us,
Moulds us into its omnipresence.
We try not to escape.

We try not to escape from its tricks,
From its burns so sweet,
It shows us how to blend.
The reality is nothing,
But a man made scarecrow,
Planted on the graves of undead.
We fear.

It shows us path we must not dare,
And how every path leads to a point,
Where nothing stands correct,
Nothing stands fair.
We think of the sunshine,
But we don’t belong there.
And we weep.

It takes more than just a vision,
To foresee the fate.
How we ruined the humanity,
And left cursed without a reason.
The emptiness shows us light,
We close our eyes.

Morning breeze wakes us up,
And the clock has not stopped ticking.