The Truth

There were not roses

And there were no stars

There was everything

And it absolutely meant

Nothing

The mind tries to find

Reason and meaning

In things happening and

So in a sense we create

Those illusions to feel safe

In…those roses and stars are

Long since dead… I’ve seen dead moments in photos that were once alive

I’ve been watching living stars that died Long ago…

 

what an interesting dimension we live in….

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Different Meanings

The Living Funeral is about one becoming more alive in dying constantly every second of the day it’s a love poem with all the music of the dead and alive playing before someone and beyond the graves of others it’s a symphonic journey through what’s bitter sweet about this precious and poetic life lingering in existence bound to naught but suprise

Vermilion Winter

it was no gift 

but one the universe 

had woven into place 

and he had stumbled upon it

just like he does into his

dreams he looked at its

exuberant color

fabric and touched its

rebellious fabric that

was worn by previous primordials 

like himself…

and then he wore it around

his neck… in that moment

he became his true self 

all that was magic in his life

became reality in

one finite moment