for S.
Ultimately we die alone.
It is an experience reserved
for us since birth.
A payment for living?
No matter.
We still force ourselves
To love, perhaps to
Forget the finality
Of our bodies' divisions.
We welcome nothingness,
as we dissolve into each other,
Allowing ourselves to feel
Bliss, or something like it.
Eyes closed,
We do not like to see
ourselves die
in another's arms,
Just to be born again,
Alone.
For the end will come.
It always does,
Come.
In despair, we curl into a fetal position,
Allowing ourselves to remember
How naturally we are
enveloped by darkness and solitude.
We try to remember what it was like
To be held by night--
Held together
and contained within ourselves.
But light filters through closed eyelids,
and it glares at us,
as we are released from this quiet embrace;
Nakedness is no exception to its severity.
We cannot forget
Our divisions then.
But how can you turn away?
When you can see you are not alone?
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Ultimately we die alone.
It is an experience reserved
for us since birth.
A payment for living?
No matter.
We still force ourselves
To love, perhaps to
Forget the finality
Of our bodies' divisions.
We welcome nothingness,
as we dissolve into each other,
Allowing ourselves to feel
Bliss, or something like it.
Eyes closed,
We do not like to see
ourselves die
in another's arms,
Just to be born again,
Alone.
For the end will come.
It always does,
Come.
In despair, we curl into a fetal position,
Allowing ourselves to remember
How naturally we are
enveloped by darkness and solitude.
We try to remember what it was like
To be held by night--
Held together
and contained within ourselves.
But light filters through closed eyelids,
and it glares at us,
as we are released from this quiet embrace;
Nakedness is no exception to its severity.
We cannot forget
Our divisions then.
But how can you turn away?
When you can see you are not alone?
