I fear nothing less than mortality
and its dearest old friend, infinite Sleep,
which calls to me from its mountain throne, steeped
in the unknown desire for peace: to die
still believing in a walkable sky.
I have thus had many chances to weep
over lost loves I once intended to keep
near, so no longer must I dry my eyes.
Though, on that final bed, watch as my brain
wars with my heart, building on their aged feud;
search within me and discover this pain,
and watch as my last breath becomes a rude
awakening: that this life is the main
life, chiseled into marbled magnitude.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s