Wild, desperate delicate 
Whispers disappearing into a 
Ice cold lifeless wintry 
Wind swept evening 

Man staggers down abandoned 
Boulevard while caressing empty liquor 
Bottle which once provided comfort 
But can no longer stop the bleeding 

The road is free and haunted 
By blind empty shadows 
Auras jet black and messages 
Disfigured and seething 

To human communicate between some invisible 
Line separating love and death 
Fears of madness and mystery 
True poetry floating and breathing 

It’s difficult to truly devour this miracle 
In the cruel face of vicious gusts 
And indifferent icicles perched perilous 
Above the innocent teething 

Machinelike stoplight switching 
Colors without another soul in sight 
Fantasy is reality and eternity questions 
If the awoken are still dreaming 

As the guard ponders prison 
Trapped within one broken shard 
Of time transcending darkness 
And creation seeming 

Put the alcohol away the numbing 
Is unnecessary considering our inherent freedom 
To decide if there is reason or rhyme 
In this song of seasons leading 

Consider whether love may profit in the 
Face of life eternally extinguished 
Entered into space only to be nullified 
Lost to the ages no longer starlight beaming 

Consider whether the good is morally 
Acceptable in a world where death ultimately 
Conquers all and the illusion of legacy is 
Established through technological toy scheming 

We are a nation of self-deprecation 
Unable to appreciate consciousness as sacred 
Beyond sight and sound shining through 
The dollar life’s permanent transit 
Unfolding before temporarily beleaguered eyes 
Obscuring a sunrise indeed we are 
We are alive 
And what is alive 
Is always—Always


About mw2828

I am a writer currently working out of the New York area. View all posts by mw2828

2 responses to “Always

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