Sunday, July 31, 2011

More Return of Saturn

So many friendships I have left to die
Like injured birds never again to fly
With tattered wings and hardened, hollow eyes.
Too little too late, I now realize.
Lying in bed I see death's frightful face
And its image can never be erased.
For it's the only sure event to come
And I fear to return to where I'm from:
To silence, to void, and to nothingness;
A reminder I have one chance at this.
So I have shed the things that weigh on me,
Surrounded myself with things of beauty,
I've tightened my fists and straightened my spine
And created a world I can call mine.