Tuesday, 16 October 2012
08:29:05 PM (GMT)
So in English today we walked to the top of a big hill, and were told to write.
Most people have told me it's depressing and heartless already, so I quite frankly
don't care what you think.
Almost every word of this means something. It's designed to be a dissectable poem.
A studiable one.
A world beyond the impossible,
Unable to hear over the echoes of silence-
Blinded from the natural chaos of beauty
By the knowlege of reasons.
We see only flecks,
Hear only shots of lives
Ended. A story begun.
Crying out against the emptiness with only sunlight to answer. Trapped.
Behind the perfection of a lifetime.
Trained minds discarding shadows.
Endings are all but the truth,
Hidden from innocence, though no one knows
What it will bring.
Is it fear of forgetting
Or reluctance to remember
Which pains us so?
Damaged and destroyed only where
There is no protection.
Willingly reluctant to the horizons of acceptance.
Even now in the monotony of the
Thoughts which burden us we recall,
Praying to no one that we forget.
Praying to the memory that we don't.
One event, so fragile in itself may be at the foundation
Of the blame of a life promised before it has begun.
Every sunlit spot hides the hidden
And we see only what we must.
What we want and what we need,
Concealed from the world we expect to love.
Laughter as intangible as smoke before me,
Dissipating into forgotten memory.
Last edited: 27 April 2013