Hiding From Silence

Cemetery image
Image by: Captured Synchronicity

The sound of silence; so fleeting and brief;

For some it is a welcome and wanted relief;

A reprise from societal cacophony and grief.

 

Their minds longing for the quiescence from commotion.

Idle time to reconcile; to inventory emotion.

They flourish, they grow; floating upon an existential ocean.

 

The sound of silence; so ephemeral and sweet.

Yet my soul withers with every heartbeat.

This moment of peace obscured by discerning defeat.

 

My mind recoils from the deficit of distractions;

Thoughts paralyzed; crippled by anxious traction.

The void in my being filled with self-doubt and depression.

 

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Reverberations of Man

Image by: Captured Synchronicity

The echo of change is silent, while the beat of a heart is violent.

Reverberations of man rattling the dark sky.

Desolation rains upon empty brains;

When the wellspring of compassion runs dry.

 

Society devolved, destructed, derailed.

A potential utopia became a toy box of despair;

Neglected and discarded by tinker toys and tyrants.

 

They devour the needs of tomorrow for today’s paltry fortune.

I’ve seen mans’ greed coursing through his veins;

Spilling wickedness upon the earth with every election.

 

I’ve felt the cold, dead stare of indifference;

As children perish around men of power.

Burning a hole through my soul, the cries of the innocents.

 

Dimming darker, ever more desolate, diving deeper into the abyss.

Growing weaker, weary with this pain I’m feeling, fearing.

Deeper into my own being, can I be this man I am seeing?

 

Into nature I am fleeing, to become a righteous being.

My tree of life is sprouting, seeding;

Winds of change are blowing, breathing.

 

Blazing, my spirit is burning; the flame of my heart is raging.

Melted chains drip away from meditative brains;

When the inferno of compassion radiates within.

 

I’ve changed with the winds and rolled with the times; lived many lives.

Fallen to my knees in desperate despair, shouting to the nothingness above;

Watching tides break as the sun falls from the sky, indifferent to me.

 

I’ve smelled the crisp morning air, then the sea at dusk; heard the call of the raven and rumbling train;

I have stood upon the precipice of time and gazed into the essence of eternity,

Laughing at the sheer simplicity of the most complex creation.

 

I’ve loved lost in lust, trance-like, infatuated and enchanted;

Mesmerized, mystified, ensnared passionately by her Shiva grace.

Gazing through my ego, she holds me in her orbit, weaving love and karma into cosmic lace.

 

The echo of love is persistent, while the beat of her heart is evanescent.

The young soul fears losing these moments between the beats.

An old soul knows, all that isn’t makes it so.

 

 

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Perpetual Motion

Perpetual Motion
Image by: Captured Synchronicity

I feel a constant pressure; my existence in a vice.

My shoulders burdened by the burgeoning need to matter.

I ache for a distraction to ignore the pain of having no purpose.

 

Growing weary of the questions;

Why am I trapped here, angry, anxious and hopeless?

Why do I feel this obligation to the world; to myself?

 

I’m never happy. It’s so hard to say; to realize and admit.

When friends ask how I am, I lie every time; nothing is fine.

Blocked from my happiness, I cannot feel joy; my consciousness is a pit.

 

I yearn to be at peace;

Free from self-doubt and insecurities; a moment without dread.

To painlessly exist and understand my path.

 

No time to spend on my desires.

By the time I recover from the misery of my current state of being,

It’s time to resume progressively slipping into a miserable pit of depression.

 

Each day it becomes harder to get out of bed;   

Misery is the thought of existing another day.

No alarm sounds before I sense the pain ahead.

 

The first thought that passes through my head each day, is regret that I’ve awakened again.

She says to write, that things are looking up, but I don’t have that faith.

Can I handle it when my words collect dust in the bargain bin?

 

I see her discover her purpose, one I’ve longed decades to find;

Happy and fulfilled, enthusiastic with a zest for life.

I am happy for her, and so proud; Although, I am sure she will leave me behind.

 

I am broken, incomplete; a part of me is missing.

She found her missing parts in a camera; in her art;

I fear I’ll never find my passion; my thing.

 

I can’t hold her back now that she’s complete;

An empty shell is what I’ve become; I don’t know how to fake being a real boy anymore.

My world is too heavy for to hold and will leave me miserable and alone.

 

For information about suicide prevention please click here.

First World Problems

First World Problems
Image by: Captured Synchronicity

Tick
The dusk of each forsaken day births the dawn of a disappointing tomorrow.
Tock.
My heaving chest rises then falls, heavy and strained; each respiration a chore for my weary soul.
Tick
Broken and defeated, yet optimistic for her; I muster the courage to try again. I’ll always try again.
Tock.
Feigning the vigor to succeed, I discover only problems with no solutions; cages with no doors.
Tick.
Dispirited and tormented, trapped within a cyclone of my own failure and self-defeat.
Tock.
Hope destroyed by fathers sins; Forever enslaved within a game I cannot win.
Tick
Fulfill the routine drudgery; eat to stay alive. Try to ignore the nagging pain as my will slowly dies.
Tock.
Anxiety builds as my moments succumb to time; Consequently, life falls by the second, like rain wasted in the ditch.
Tick
Churning, burning, my stomach wrenched in woe; starving for a freedom my mind will never know.
Tock.
No longer can I gaze into the eyes of my wife, afraid she’ll finally see the depth of the agony inside.
Tick
Hungry, beaten, exploited and raped; my malady is menial to the abused; yet still I hurt
Tock.
Foolish and selfish, I bring her down with my cries; wailing like a child and I don’t know why.
Tick
I don’t want to die hollowed from the pain. I’ll always try again.
Tock.

 

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