Dusky days waiting for moonlight;

White flowers lost in teardrops of a bleeding heart;

Ladders crumbling to dust;

Hidden inscriptions of shadows;

Fragile pieces of sky,

Stuck in strands of cobwebs;

What does it all mean?

 

Happiness flushed down a vortex of memories,

Remedied by the sweet touch of emptiness,

Chasing shimmering bubbles of dreariness,

Hoping to keep it afloat,

To hold it close to heart, to be enclosed,

To float free and light,

Desperate for life.

What does it all mean?

 

A hysterically raging heart,

Fester's, refusing to reconcile.

A mind indifferently struggles to fake a smile.

A spirit so decidedly and forcefully peaceful,

And a soul so frantic for revival;

All defined by choices hanging on to weak resolutions.

What does it all mean?

 

There are no empires,

No dynasties;

There are no ambitions,

No treacheries;

There are no illusions,

No overwhelming passions;

There are no recurrences,

No second chances;

Just indifference.

A silent uproar of indifference;

And a piercing muteness of emptiness.