Pink

I loved you.
More so unknown than I could ever tell you.
I did tell you.
I know that you knew.
I knew that you did too.

It was supposed to be eternal,
You and I.
Doing what we do,
across time and space.
Being us. Just us.

You were a flawed being.
With your stubbornness and beliefs.
I was too, and still am.
But it was our little world,
and us against everything else.

I picked you over everyone else,
sometimes even myself.
I truly loved you.
You were my first and my last.
You still are.

Every memory I have is shared.
With you.
All our firsts,
and our lasts.

I miss you Pink.
More than ever.

I am sorry,
I should have been there.
I am sorry I couldn't be better.
I am sorry.

Your memories are all I have,
Our times together.
I do not know what this life is without you.
It hurts.
Terribly.

Everyday is a reminder of something we did.
You are always there.
You will always be here with me.
Forever.

You are the only one pink,
and I cannot forgive myself,
I wish we could hang again.
Like we used to.

I wish I could talk to you,
for hours, and speak about nothing.
I wish you could be here,
with me.

Battle your demons each day kids!

I sense your longing,
a lost fleeting song,
one with memories etched in its words,
fading away into nothingness.

You smile through the pain,
the struggles of someone too old to be young,
too young to be reborn,
too old to be someone else.

Some days seem unreal,
uphill battles and volcanic ashes,
and others fierce with possibilities,
and overwhelming strength.

Time to reset,
sleep, wake up and sleep.
Be aware and awake and asleep.
Let us postpone it to another day.

Life and the constant battle to keep your demons at bay.
Did you laugh today?
Or cry. Or think. Or dream?
Did you live today?

I did not. I have not for a long time.

Here, not for long.

I will write today,
As I did yesterday,
but not the day before,
for I too am human,
and share the species frailties.
But I too am human,
and I share the same hopelessness.
The same virtue of forlorn need,
for finding substance in subtleties.

What I did not write was about,
the words which are seldom said,
life chimes in wind,
each sounding different to the gust.
I did not tell you about the pain,
about how we stuff our hearts,
in square shaped boxes,
made to fit square shaped hearts,
but not for heart shaped squares.
About how we long for meaning,
for substance in truth,
for resistance in words,
for acceptance in silence.

I did write about the world,
about life as one sees it.
About existence in pain,
and perseverance in boredom.
About longing for love,
and loving her long.
I wrote about the lies we tell,
the ones we believe.
and accept and abhor.
About the empty promises we make. 

Where do dreams go to die?

A life too short to live,

A body too fragile to hold,

with concubines in this hive,

our lies repeatedly sold.

Is this what it was to be?

were we living a lie?

Where do our dreams go to die?

What happens to the promises?

Unfulfilled ones lives on forever,

in the memories of their lovers.

Forgotten ones remembered,

in relived memories of longing.

Another world awaits,

for those left behind this one,

a better one with hope and happiness,

and unfulfilled promises. 

True.

Aren't we all becoming drones?
Doing what we think will make us happy.
Or lead us to happiness.
Feeling nothing along the way.
Hoping we are on the right path,
to someone else's idea of fulfilment.

We are transforming into something else,
nothing really matters,
no great wars to fight,
or hardships to overcome.
We look towards the past hoping for an answer.
And the past looks back asking where we went wrong.

How does one keep up?
Where is the quest in this life?
The purpose one claims to be his.
The passion in ones life.

In circles we run,
and nobody tries to break it.
no one stops to think what is all this about?
Who or what are we going towards?

I will move forward,
procreate and ensure my progeny too ruins the planet,
and then I would die out.
Like the rest of us.
Death will come unannounced.

There is no end goal.
No nothing to fight for.
Nothing worth investing your time in.
You do nothing.

Yet we do this.
We look at others for answers,
to questions only we ask.
Maybe I am the single consciousness,
in this vast system of drones.

The more i try to mimic them,
the less I succeed.
I cannot stop being me.
All this while I have been fighting.
A fight I will never win. 

Who do Gods worship?

Did I forgive my forefathers?

For who’s sins I am not aware of.

Or did my chest swell with pride,

For their virtues outlived their memories.

And about my progeny, I wonder.

What will they hear about me?

Do I still have time to right the wrong?

Or be human and forgotten?

Will I be remembered as a great poet?

Or a good human being?

Or a selfish human struggling to survive.

Maybe it is the choice I make.

Each day, every hour, every minute. 

I don’t atone for the sins of the ones before me 

I don’t believe anyone else will for mine.

For I am a mortal,

In the long bloodlines of immortal men.

Seeking atonement for the ones before.

Gardien des étoiles

I have watched eternity,

Since before the birth of time,

As a voyeur of creation,

and the protector of the void.

I have seen everything,

from the tiny specs of dust,

in the aftermath of cosmic annihilations,

to the creation of life,

and its eternal struggle in vain.

I am alone in this quest,

to wait out time,

and the other constructs,

and observe from a distance.

And I remain eternal,

watching one race conquer another,

and be conquered in-turn 

by yet a superior one.

With no desire to influence,

no action consequential,

no life worth saving,

no heaven worth living,

I witness it all.

The sentient call me,

'Gardien des étoiles'',

Guardian of the stars.

Mortals craving meaning,

Mystifying the unknown.

I am the all powerful,

for nothing has power over I,

I am your conscience,

a creation of another fool,

trapped in a time loop.

How dare you question my existence?,

For I was here, and I will be,

long after the end of time,

witnessing the birth of another.