Not knowing quite where to begin.
I have seen the joy in this sadness
Which surrounds me.
Is this the closure we seek?
The last great cry of a dying soul?
Ah, but the dreams have no control;
They simply float by
Telling stories that we want to hear,
Showing us the images of what could have been,
And what will never be.
Oh the years are cold;
Pushing us down this awkward path.
Towards an unmarked end
That springs upon us;
Striking as the serpent in a dense jungle.
So this is closure?
Just the light dancing off an old picture;
an old recording pining over a lost love.
Closure is for stories and movies,
and although I seek it;
I will have to learn to live
With the flash of light off of this frame,
and my own voice calling through the speakers;
My lament at the words I never said
Before your own serpent struck.