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This world—
temporal.
Everything that fancies itself lasting
will think it no sooner than it’ll fade.
Everything moves, changes,
breathes the air of a world that
constantly rearranges itself.
It scares me sometimes.
It frightens me when people
speak along the lines of forever
as though they knew what that meant.
There is a danger
more lethal than the perfect lie
in getting entangled in
a man-conceived eternity.
How I ruminate on thoughts
that are obviously still too massive
for a mind of 18 years and
a heart much younger still
when all I really want to say
(breathe in, out)
is I don’t want to lose you.
I am caught in the middle of this,
and you know you are too.
We are all desperate to hang on
to that which the powers divine
might ultimately withhold from us.
We all hope that the everlasting
could but brush against the surface
of our lives, where all pain is caused
by things that are made to die.
Hmm. Thoughts? :/ I've become more uncertain of this poem now. o_O I think I still managed to say what I wanted to, albeit in a way that doesn't destroy the poem's feel.
