P U R I T Y
officially inactive
A Life Time
Tick goes the clock hands
To feel is now to have touched
Gone is the warmth and saccharine coat within the stomach
Replaced with nostalgia
And a subtle ache to the skin
To say is now to have spoken
Gone is the atmosphere
Replaced with moments of melancholic reminiscence
Absorbed within the walls are words
Painted on all that we're left with
Infused within memories like layered trace marks
Messy and uncoordinated like a child's first steps
Gradually producing the end as if one's endeavors were cinematic
To see is now to recall
Wanderlust tears us from scenarios deemed unbearable
Urges, desires, stealing us from simplicity
The moon sets and our hearts beckon for a second chance
To go back is now to remained chained to what had been a yearning
To rush is now to have lost oneself
To leave is now to have left behind
To love is now to have a special place for within the heart
Victory has satiated and destroyed the over zealous misanthrope
What a short spinning wheel life is born from
A thread as thin as the first hair on an infant
And the last hair on a graying body of old
As well as the hold one believes they've got on anything
So easily slipping between your fingers
Recycled by the breeze as surely as a 'nevermind'
Yet it is the melancholy that we live for
To birth the existence of all we are permitted
A cherished experience
Fleeting durations of time are an uncalculated rhythm
That keeps the heart at a beat synced with the world
A macrocosm continuing on
Choreographing a universal dance of imminent desolation
With illuminated periods that deserved forever
Though compared to the God that lives not by our sense of time
Were persevered for the most sorrowfully allotted length of time
A life time.
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