Where
does the absurdity fall
Where
does the truth lie
Nonsense
has been written
On the
tombs of those before
A distant
word for those who rest
The
thought of society
Need not
mention upon their graves
Only a
welcome of peace
The
fountain of youth waits
On grass
tips of stone
Buried
only for those who believe.
What will
I leave here for you
A tombstone
Or will I
dwell in the shadows of light
Will you
see me
On cold
evenings on empty streets
Of
sidewalks cratered holes
I think
of you and what I will mean to you
How you
will come to know me
In
troubled waters will my echo ring
I am
overly cautious of my own mortality
If only
you could escape knowing unknown like I did
Holding
on until we can both follow the sunrise
Until we
both know the moment of existentialism
Until we
know the moment of fate
Until we
realize we are always bound
In living
and in death and in spirit
—my son.
No comments:
Post a Comment