Human

There is a house I built
for my soul to live in.
It is not me or who I am
but I love it all the same.

There is a garden I tend
for my thoughts to dwell in.
A beautiful wall surrounds it
but it cannot contain me.

There is a painting I work on
to reflect a reality.
Splendid colours on a canvas
that hides shades of gray.

In all these things I am
but I am not these things.
A comforting beloved cloak
discarded at the end of humanity.

The Wind

The west wind brings the news.
Blows away what remained behind,
leaving only a haunting silence.

Standing in the endless longing.
Waiting for words that never come,
breathless, my hope stolen away.

As pictures fade from colour to grey,
I wonder, do you ever think of me.
Those moments that we were us?

Close the windows, lock the shutters.
The wind has come, it’s all too late.
The ashes of my heart scattered in the dust.

The Construct

A castle made of stone.
Build on blood and bone.
One layer after the other.
I see you father, mother.

I feel the rope around my wrist.
It burns and cuts as my arms I twist.
Drags me along a path so strange.
Until it becomes my familiar stage.

Eyes wide open, I walk on blindly.
Cruelty, cool indifference looks kindly.
Here I try to catch an empty wind,
hollow echoes of love is all I find.

In a single flash the reality shatter.
The me I never was start to scatter.
In the quietness of an ocean pool,
I see that me, it was a fool.

One layer after the other.
I say goodbye father, mother.
Removing every single stone,
Until what is left is the unknown.