My Questions


How wretched is the one,
Who plans and plots,
To twist his destiny,
Around his little finger?

Is he better than him,
Who waits in silence,
For castle’s to emerge,
From time’s still sands?

Is life a painting,
Of our choice’s colors,
On our karmic canvas,
Are we nothing but artists?

What does it mean,
When lives are manipulated,
When dreams are masticated,
When love dies?

Do dreams become real,
Do nightmares dissolve,
Do midnight conversations,
Still make  hearts melt?

Is any of it real,
Will the masks fall,
Of friends, foes, and strangers,
Will I see the real you?

I’m but one mind,
These are but my questions,
Imagine if I asked you too,
To open your mind?

What would you ask me,
If you could ask me anything,
Would you ask me who I am,
And if I could still dream?

If I was yours just for today,
Would you ask me questions,
Lying with me under the stars,
Would you answer mine too?

 

 

 

No Present, Nor Past


The pages turn,

The sands flow,

I look above,

The skies glow.

 

Your touch burns,

Your sight sears,

I lay locked,

Motionless with fear.

 

Deafened by my heart,

Beating aloud,

Tears trickle down my face,

Cover me like a shroud.

 

Blindly I walk,

Towards you again,

Hold my hand,

Quietly say my name.

 

Filled with fire,

I’ll come alive,

The sound of your voice,

That’s my only vice.

 

To the Earth,

We’ll tell our story,

Of love and surrender,

In all its glory.

 

Hold me up,

As I crumble away,

Under the weight,

Of longing I sway.

 

Believe every word,

To be my last,

Without us,

I have no present, nor past.