unto self

eyes closed.

upon the barren landscapes of time, a man, everlasting, waits. mapping his infinite steps, the clouds only linger, fleeting. a thought also waits, but does not rest, upon his struggling mind, torturing and twining the fibers of his consciousness.

eyes gazing upwards.

clouds may wander at will, untethered. and how? the darkness of his thoughts are wrought with a dread he has not known, caged within the boundless realms of his mind. and it will not settle. of serpents and phantoms. to which corner shall this darkness recede? this ever-gazing eye, shrouded, shall not sleep; it shall not recede...

eyes gazing inwards.

time manifests itself. and still, he suffers, the destitution of his purpose, the corrosion of his self, a mind infected. seeking understanding. if this darkness shall not recede, perhaps it is he who shall flee. escape. escape this shroud. escape this mind. what fate, then, will wait for him, his existence? awaken to realize a mind, freed of its vessel. if, in death, it is realized, then hasten this being...

eyes closed.

upon the barren landscapes of time, a mind, everlasting, is. mapping his ending, the clouds only linger, fleeting. but this mind, too, is ephemeral, detached, and waits with the halcyon, in solitude, letting go.
©