I woke trying to put a name to the unknown;
trying to develop sense that extended beyond the concrete under my feet.
Brick and mortar being to belief.
Each step assigned proof to falsehoods long known to be deified gospel,
shaking to the core a system of words given life through poison breath without reason to be;
a gift of cursed delusion never questioned but only exalted through anonymity.
Who is, was, or ever will be?
The street caved beneath me,
an earthen reminder of dust begetting dust as its core swallowed me whole.
Falling up,
ascension through subtraction.
Lights and signs and truisms lost to chasmic cosmos,
chaotic indulgences of a lesser-known.
Control defined not as leashed direction but as unbridled suspension;
dynamic stasis.
Grasping at air the color of denial,
finding life's mystery in the songs of those long defeated
but never lost to immortal love.
Calling out to no one for no such thing.
Clawing at never.
Horns and sirens and panic-stricken masses of brittle blood,
liquid bone,
never arrived to attest to what befell my descent -
the world hadn't disintegrated beneath their feet
leaving them to decipher glyphs on walls made of ground,
or set their ears afire with words from worlds unseen -
no one else had been tasked as human sand in celestial hourglass
with giving title to what is not known.
Only me,
left midflight with one stirring thought,
one rhyme, its sing-song singeing itself into suited flesh:
"What is and will be waits for no name;
And that which once was n'er once did the same."
trying to develop sense that extended beyond the concrete under my feet.
Brick and mortar being to belief.
Each step assigned proof to falsehoods long known to be deified gospel,
shaking to the core a system of words given life through poison breath without reason to be;
a gift of cursed delusion never questioned but only exalted through anonymity.
Who is, was, or ever will be?
The street caved beneath me,
an earthen reminder of dust begetting dust as its core swallowed me whole.
Falling up,
ascension through subtraction.
Lights and signs and truisms lost to chasmic cosmos,
chaotic indulgences of a lesser-known.
Control defined not as leashed direction but as unbridled suspension;
dynamic stasis.
Grasping at air the color of denial,
finding life's mystery in the songs of those long defeated
but never lost to immortal love.
Calling out to no one for no such thing.
Clawing at never.
Horns and sirens and panic-stricken masses of brittle blood,
liquid bone,
never arrived to attest to what befell my descent -
the world hadn't disintegrated beneath their feet
leaving them to decipher glyphs on walls made of ground,
or set their ears afire with words from worlds unseen -
no one else had been tasked as human sand in celestial hourglass
with giving title to what is not known.
Only me,
left midflight with one stirring thought,
one rhyme, its sing-song singeing itself into suited flesh:
"What is and will be waits for no name;
And that which once was n'er once did the same."
