Rhythm (revised)

Standing at the end of the world, there
are no sounds and words fall from the lips
like molten rock (red with passion but
black in feeling).  Lights shine,
blocking the sky from view.  Light up gods
in the distance spin in circles for all to see
(only if you are high up enough).  Four friends –
strangers in reality – wander open fields
of starlight and broken glass.

Fire and bodies both stationary and moving.  This
isn’t life is it?  How do we function in a world that
knows no end?  How does the world continue to
spin (round and round and round again)?  Why
is it that we move and die and go
through and hurt those we hardly know?  Those
that fight are enlightened.

Music solves all, doesn’t she?  The greatest song in
the world lights the hall of heroes, a star in
the blackness of never ending light.  I hope
the time past death has the greatest song in
the world.

Rose petals of so many different types fall
from above.  Beautiful things cover The Beautiful.
You, me, and something else, something not important.
But… how is The Beautiful what it is, why is
it The Beautiful?  Why do I like it so?  Why
does it cover me?  How does it decide?

Questions are answered with so many different
solutions all of which don’t help at all.  I fall into
the ground.   The peak.  Why.  How. So many
words, why can’t I think?
Why is it this way...
How does life continue...
How do words flow out of my pen in such a way?

Ink on paper.  
Words in my head.  
Thoughts in my heart.
Love on my lips.  
Somehow, I feel the earth take shape
under my feet.  


Words, like notes on a page dance around.
Moments not remembered,
passing by into the fog of
forgotten memories, dancing in the air
and suddenly...

End