Among the subtleties of human predicaments, I often like to imagine, is a lie that they had us believe. A lie- or a truth gone rogue- that was fed to us to keep the darkness away, which now ironically forms the very basis of it.
The fundamental error of our lives has been to let that lie settle into our souls, to place our bets on the belief that- purposeful things cannot end into nothingness.
If you are a wise old man
Who can tell right from wrong
Someone who knows about life
And, everything else beyond.
If you are someone who can cherish
The beauty of nature and its sounds
And, can love endlessly,
Without being love bound.
Then, know that I look for you
To come and give me hope
For, my friend, I am troubled
And am unable to cope.
But, if you are young, naive
Like me, as is fated
You are tired of life and death
And, all things related
You’ve left many things behind
And, some things have left you
You spent your life collecting memories
And, now that’s all that’s left of you.
Then, know that you’re not alone
And, we can still get through life
Be my friend, I am troubled
For even that will suffice.
Before all the lying verses
All the wounds and all the nurses
Before all the bizarre lines
And, the outbreak of bullets and mines
Before all the chaotic words
And, the debauching swearing curse
Before the letters that made it all
Before the erection of that wall.
There was just me
And, there was just you.
And, there was peace.