At Eternity's Gate

I came to a clearing at the edge of the woods
Leaving behind me the arboreal blanket
That had mostly shaded and hid me from the sun.

The sun, unrestrained, beat down oppressively
A stifling heat misjudged, catching me unawares
As I, tremulous, gaped at the tremulous scene.

Standing upon the edge I saw, looking ahead
Infinity playing at my periphery
And some distance from the woods I'd only just left.

At first I quite eagerly made my way across
Spurred on by the temptation of exploration
Lost in the hold of fantasies of the unknown.

But I soon grew weary and my footfalls slackened.
Sweat dripped from my brow; I saw my spirit blacken
As I burned beneath the indomitable sun.

Oh, how I wished to turn back knowing I could not
I had gone too far now from that which I once knew
And knew that there was only forward: nothing more.

So I trudged on and after an eternity
That seemed too brief, my quest ended but in its stead
I could only see a different forest ahead.

Commence to Begin

Dear god please grant me sweet nepenthe
As the sinners in outrage cry out “Repent, ye”
“Little of faith, less of heart and soul,”
“What blasphemy you utter, you do not know.”
And yes this began in medias res
If this midlife is my half-life I'm less than blessed
This is where your aimless faith will get you
Unanswerable questions do not beget truth
But this is all a ruse I'm sure you'll see through
Fuck these bitches and let that money accrue
If we're lost when we die I'd rather not cry at rain
This total perspective vortex will destroy your brain.

Yo enough stalling, let's commence to begin
This'll be the first track I say the title in -
And the first I assure you, where I'll be direct
At least more than you should've come to expect
Let's go way back when to when all this shit started
Woke to a gray morning, weak and broken-hearted
Rubbed sleep from my eyes but nothing was there
There's no rest for the wicked or so I hear
But the steely gray sky like life past prime
Belied the warm morning that met me outside
And as I breathed deep I knew the sleepless nights
This illusion of time ends with the sunrise.

We're all like Prometheus – we know too much
And try to steal things that are hot to touch
Each little moment like we're thieves of time
Each day we awake to confront our crimes
But there's no eagle coming for our livers
Just one before whom we'll stand and deliver
So count the hours that you lose to sleep
And count the hours that you lose to people
And count the time that you spend on yourself
Does the weight of your soul slowly tip the scale
Or would the weight of the world borne on your shoulders
Look any lighter to another beholder?

Let me ask you, would that balm in Gilead
Finally conclude this unending Iliad
Or must we traverse mountains and valleys of shadows
To find a Pyrrhic victory in these hollow battles?

Winter Wondering

The ground is covered with crack cocaine,
With the same upon cars' window panes
Yet the streets are black and dull as coal
Look! Modernism and chiaroscuro!

The winds hold softly the dancing frost
To places where they are found or lost.
Entropy in times of stagnation;
References and personification!

This is the start of the end we fear
To die is to have resolved affairs
For living is just like to splinter
Pretensions! This ain't just about winter!

Arboreal

The seedling too small to sway in the wind –
How frail is life when it first begins! –
Will as time flows and it grows and swells,
Hear the tolling of countless funeral bells.

The sapling's first halcyon snows –
A tremulous life in the bone-white glow –
Will, if it braves the bitter chill,
See a time again when all is still.

The flowering tree in the rising sun
Before the harvest has even begun
Knows that the fruit it will come to bear
Can not last long despite its care.

The summers gone and long since passed
Though slow to go never seem to last
And so hearing the end of another season sing
The tree marks off another ring.

It stands amongst the grassy graves,
Roots entrenched against the end of days,
But a stump and rings is all that's left,
They came and went and the tree is dead.

450 Degrees

The wind whispers, how trite it seems,
Broken words through shattered dreams -
Stained glass shards upon concrete -
Who cares if they'll ever be complete?

No more will shine the colored lights
That once was God for proselytes,
And now with no one left to see
Who cares about what we believe?

The scent of ashes: heavy, cloying
Like playful sprites, more than half-toying
Upon these dead and empty streets -
Who cares without hearts to skip a beat?

If any souls looked, flying by,
Upon this beast that's slowly died
Upon the threshold of eternity,
Who'd care for thoughts that none can mete?

Weightless and hollow in an empty world,
Who'd care if all this sand were pearls,
Or who'd care for burning memories,
If the city were razed to plant more trees?