music thoughts poetry and wierdness

music thoughts poetry and wierdness
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Monday, January 23, 2012

the end of the never ending

painting by Naomi Silver

The End Of The Never-ending


I stand at the foot of my bed and I fall into the water.
The sea grows deeper the further I fall.

What if there is no bottom?
That may be the cruel truth.

To not know if there is an end makes thee entire
decent a living end.

Your mind changes shape
with countless questions and fears.

You start to ask the same questions with new hope,
but your hope is hollow

Your hope becomes repetition,
repetition becomes a safety mechanism.

The further you fall
the less of you there is,
so the fall stats to s l o w.

Then the fear of a limitless end worsens.
You will never really know if the floor existed,
and now there is less of you to care.

If there is an end,
by the time you reach it and the wandering hope finely dies,
there is nothing left of you to impact the oceans floor.

So I ended way before the end ended.

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