Monday, November 7, 2011

The Purpose


So many doubts,
that I try to see through;
and when I finally do,
you change my doubts.

       Relentless I was,
       but for the wind and the trees;
       when I tried to stop,
       you stung me like wild bees.

I stood there in the rain, 
as the trains passed by;
smoke went into my lungs,
as the fresh air passed by.

       The sky stared at me,
       as I wished the earth would hide me in;
       not again an eye shall look into mine,
       for an eternity called time.

I sold my soul to angels,
for a few more days to live;
how can I give it up,
for a heaven called hell?

       Then you ask me,
       the meaning of life,
       sitting under a dead tree,
       with the sky staring at you;
       and I ask you why,
       why can't you wish to hide into the ground,
       sink into your own eyes,
       and burn whatever you thus find.

No comments:

Post a Comment