Reduced to the simplest of terms,
Life -
A series of encounters and departures.
But what has become of the soul
who feels
plagued by meetings and
blessed by partings?
To endure a parting,
becomes the comfort,
the known closeness.
And the meeting,
digested with loathsome fear.
To what end has that soul met?
When solace is found in solitude,
and terror is tossed by tenderness.
If souls are split,
and mere halves of former selves,
preparation for parting,
would only seem the true definition of
Death -
the return to a husk of humanity,
and the singular existance.
A contest entry
- Show Me That You Can Bleed into Your Poem by The Chameleon.
1750 points, ended March 12, 2008, 12 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
-
yikes
life as death...
I'm interested in the death drive; which you describe as 'solace in solitude', just wanting a cessation of bombardment(?)
anyway, you've really spelled it out, with thoughts in such a short/neat=pithy description
(the poem's very unnerving L', well done!)
-
such profound longing in these lines and might the tenor of life be expressed just this way; an unfed hunger for self; but beneath is something else perhaps, the love we have created and does this not become the thing that fills our footsteps...wonderful thoughtful writing here...PK
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