a welcoming of everything like sun, the marriage of convenience and desire, a cabaret of indolence and peace. how is it that one finds a separate peace with all our troubles magnified by sun that shines into the cracks in our desire? a shibboleth: the words that mean desire -- a constituted wreck upon the peace of all we worship underneath the sun -- this sun, that burns away desire and peace
There was once, in this place, a different life;
The wind blows soft, the prairie fairly breathes,
And though I’m where I meant to be, I’m lost.
Though life surrounds, there’s little here that breathes
Of days once known, and ways we’ve long since lost;
But such, they tell me, is the way of life.
For all who struggle find that much is lost:
Our aspirations, and, at last, our life —
This is the fate of each that’s born and breathes.
Like love, that tune life breathes, that’s so soon lost.
I rise to waken, full of sound and music
To battle with the demon that is silence
The slowing down of life to almost-death
For yes, the living journey ends in death
A life is but one part in larger music
With duets, solos, symphony and silence
Now call upon command at once to silence
These thoughts, so far from life, encompass death
To bring my mind and heart back to the music
The music of the silence that is death
