Frosstbyte

Lost to Time

The mist swirls ‘round us all,
Enveloping a world in morbid darkness,
The man reaches, striving for the unattainable,
The man falls, consumed by the force he tries to create,
If happiness comes from within,
Why then can pain come from without?

We toil for nothing,
Life, a dream twisted by a terrible reality,
Thoughts drift like fragments of debris,
Floating through an impenetrable nothingness,
The end, the last gasp, the final ragged breaths,
Taken from a life that was never ours to start, never ours to end,
Linked only by a wish that could never be.

Two frail, tortured beings part ways,
Only for each other, they cannot and must exist.

Another curtain falls, another doorway opens,
Nothing ahead and nothing behind,
Aimlessly wandering a planet without order or light,
Plauged by knowing too much and understanding too little.

Fool and great mind, lover and lone wolf,
All will die, one can only but pray that,
When he comes, with flowing cloak and curvéd blade,
That something is left behind,
A masterpiece or an irrelevant iota of knowledge,
Immortality is only thus achieved.

No more exists,
To be said or to be wirtten,
The dust will settle, the paper decay,
And when no memory remains, all is lost to time. . .