Not finished, but a part of me just gone,
left behind in many places
pieces scattered, broken traces
of who I was, a beginning of an end
as I dream of life foregone.
I am not finished but sometimes
I can see far in the distance
how my life in just one instance
disappears around the bend.
And the game in the last quarter
will be played until it defines
if all the traces left behind
either saves me or condemn.
What shall I do with all this freedom?
Time set between sunrise and sunset
and what I want and what could get
without leftover worries or obligations
unraveling a life with simplifications
for nothing I must do unless I choose,
nothing left to pay with years past due
if only one to love twenty four seven,
I can stretch around in my own heaven
and be the person I wanted to become
while madness around possessing some
when the only challenge to overcome
is what shall I do with all my freedom?
Piece by piece we come together
parts barely fitting with smooth edges,
hard to fit between the wedges
of tight closed fingers-
And life goes on, desire lingers
while weaving dreams that fell apart,
but piece by piece with ever part
we fit together we become clear,
year after year
a picture forms that we can see
a part of you, a part of me.
And every piece we place and match
in between love and pain we catch
a glimpse of heavens, if one last piece
with grace attach
to finish all in resting peace-
In my death
flowers bloom, ashes fly
my intentions undone, life not gone
not to miss, not to cry.
Nothing lost, a new dawn
of unknowns, a new place
without flesh, with no face.
In my death
time will pass, love persist
with no grave, mind exist
life just turns, turns and twist
while I’m gone,
nothing lost, a new dawn-
Reality took a peek mocking my dreams
“ you dreamed for too long” I heard
while I refused to accept what seems
reality’s truth so I cut off my ears
and as everything became blurred
I saw signs posted everywhere
“wake up, wake up” it read
so I made myself blind
and to ignore all prepared
when I heard myself said
“what you seek will never find”
so in the midst of my craze
knife in hand I did not care
cutting my tongue, and as I bled
and slowly faded into my dreams
I heard the voice inside my head.
Do we become who we are
or simply hang somewhere
unfinished, unpolished for all to see
alone and unprepared
not knowing how to be free.
Do we complete who we are
or the pieces of us scattered
of our life puzzle missing parts
and simply bruised and shattered
one among other broken hearts.
Do we remain who we are
or fade into nothingness of death
with no heavens or hell
lost hope in our final breath
as we leave behind a broken shell.
If I fade away before my time
the trace of words to be lost
lasting letters without rhyme.
Name of five carelessly tossed
with no meaning to declare
love and life found and lost.
And for that I won’t prepare
when today I can still write
and the rest I cannot care.
To bow my head and contrite
when in words my soul I bare.
without reasons for my plight