The bittersweetness of having arrived here in the future,
finally learning the answers to how things turned out but being unable to tell your past self.
finally learning the answers to how things turned out but being unable to tell your past self.
Lost and found and turned on
By the fire in your eyes.
By the fire in your eyes.
Beneath the patience of trees.
I would
I would mind my business with that warm, not-too-hot cup of coffee, letting its quiet mist rise like prayer from a life I failed to live slowly.
I'd sit there not as someone waiting, but as someone arriving at nothing in particular.
I'd let the wrath unknot itself, not with effort, but with submission.
Because under the ancient trees, even pain seems to kneel.
I would stay longer than I'm allowed to by the clocks that never stop ticking, by the world that perplexes pace with meaning.
I'd sit still until I remember that I, too am nature.
That I too, was meant to bloom unhurriedly, rest deeply, and vanish gently.
I would dissolve yes, not in sorrow, but in softness.
Into the fog where time has no sharp edges.
Into the hush where missed chances no longer bite, and memories aren't measured by success or regret but by the presence.
I'd drift through the might-have-been and never-was as if they were old friends I no longer needed to comprehend.
And in that stillness, I wouldn't be forfeited I would be returned.
I would
I would mind my business with that warm, not-too-hot cup of coffee, letting its quiet mist rise like prayer from a life I failed to live slowly.
I'd sit there not as someone waiting, but as someone arriving at nothing in particular.
I'd let the wrath unknot itself, not with effort, but with submission.
Because under the ancient trees, even pain seems to kneel.
I would stay longer than I'm allowed to by the clocks that never stop ticking, by the world that perplexes pace with meaning.
I'd sit still until I remember that I, too am nature.
That I too, was meant to bloom unhurriedly, rest deeply, and vanish gently.
I would dissolve yes, not in sorrow, but in softness.
Into the fog where time has no sharp edges.
Into the hush where missed chances no longer bite, and memories aren't measured by success or regret but by the presence.
I'd drift through the might-have-been and never-was as if they were old friends I no longer needed to comprehend.
And in that stillness, I wouldn't be forfeited I would be returned.
Men only think about the past,
right before their death, as if they were searching frantically for proof that they were alive.
right before their death, as if they were searching frantically for proof that they were alive.
And as I became invisible,
I've started to see things that
had once been invisible to me.
I've started to see things that
had once been invisible to me.
A kind of shade.
I gave it all.
I don't belong, yet I stand tall.
Not here, and never will I be.
So lonely here, get away from me.
Did you see what was once called living,
ghost-free?
Now it's recollections,
a dream will never be.
We tap.
We swipe.
The fire of reality starts to fade.
We are all, after all, a kind of shade.
I tried, I tried, I tried to scribble something to revive you,
To grip your hand in the dimly lit tunnel.
But I also need a guiding light.
For the rectangle glows bright.
And I'm losing sight.
I think there's no more,
need to fight.
I gave it all.
I don't belong, yet I stand tall.
Not here, and never will I be.
So lonely here, get away from me.
Did you see what was once called living,
ghost-free?
Now it's recollections,
a dream will never be.
We tap.
We swipe.
The fire of reality starts to fade.
We are all, after all, a kind of shade.
I tried, I tried, I tried to scribble something to revive you,
To grip your hand in the dimly lit tunnel.
But I also need a guiding light.
For the rectangle glows bright.
And I'm losing sight.
I think there's no more,
need to fight.
In these times you can't call
yourself a human being anymore.
yourself a human being anymore.
I want to confess as best I can, but my heart is void.
The void is a mirror. I see my face and feel loathing and horror.
My indifference to men has shut me out.
I live now in a world of ghosts, a prisoner in my dreams
- Antonius Block.
The void is a mirror. I see my face and feel loathing and horror.
My indifference to men has shut me out.
I live now in a world of ghosts, a prisoner in my dreams
- Antonius Block.
Then life is a preposterous horror.
No man can live faced with Death, knowing everything's nothingness.
No man can live faced with Death, knowing everything's nothingness.
In a dream, you saw a way to prevail
And you were packed with joy.
And you were packed with joy.
Where the deer flees.
Far off he fleed
into the belly of green,
Where vines gripped the sky,
and water wept from above
as if heaven too could not bear the weight.
He ran from the eyes that loved him once,
from a porch light,
soft prayers,
a name whispered in the dusk
of nowhere towns.
Now he walks the streets
that do not speak his language,
among ghosts
that never died clean.
Their breath clings
to the mud of his boots.
Their grief
he wears it like a second skin.
No medals here.
Only the slow drowning
in a speechlessness
that eats.
He had a laugh once,
It's gone.
Folded into jungle hush
and smoke-thick memory.
Love was too heavy
to carry in his pack.
So he buried it
with the letters,
with the photographs,
with the boy he used to be.
Each day, he dies in pieces.
Each night,
he forgets how to return.
Is this the end of the road?
No.
Just another beginning
where nothing begins.
And still,
he stays.
Among the leaves that don't forgive,
the creatures that do not judge,
in the heartbeat
of a war that never ends,
only echoes.
He is no longer a man,
nor ghost,
but a shadow.
Bleeding softly.
Breathing barely.
Waiting, perhaps,
to vanish
entirely.
Far off he fleed
into the belly of green,
Where vines gripped the sky,
and water wept from above
as if heaven too could not bear the weight.
He ran from the eyes that loved him once,
from a porch light,
soft prayers,
a name whispered in the dusk
of nowhere towns.
Now he walks the streets
that do not speak his language,
among ghosts
that never died clean.
Their breath clings
to the mud of his boots.
Their grief
he wears it like a second skin.
No medals here.
Only the slow drowning
in a speechlessness
that eats.
He had a laugh once,
It's gone.
Folded into jungle hush
and smoke-thick memory.
Love was too heavy
to carry in his pack.
So he buried it
with the letters,
with the photographs,
with the boy he used to be.
Each day, he dies in pieces.
Each night,
he forgets how to return.
Is this the end of the road?
No.
Just another beginning
where nothing begins.
And still,
he stays.
Among the leaves that don't forgive,
the creatures that do not judge,
in the heartbeat
of a war that never ends,
only echoes.
He is no longer a man,
nor ghost,
but a shadow.
Bleeding softly.
Breathing barely.
Waiting, perhaps,
to vanish
entirely.
Do you notice how tiny those humans and their desires seem from over here?
ุงูุนุฏุงู
ุงูู
ูุดููุฉุ ุงููุฑุงุถ ุงูู
ุนูู.
ุซู ุฉ ุดูุก ุฎููู ูุณูู ุฃููุฆู ุงูุฐูู ูุง ูุนุงููู.
ูู ุดูู ุจูููุงุ ุจุฅูุฏุงู ูุง ุชูุซูููุง ุงูุฃุณุฆูุฉ.
ุจุฌุจุงูู ูุง ููุทุจูุง ุงููููุ ุฐูู ููุณ ุงูุณุงูุงูุ
ุจู ุดุจุญู ููุณุฎุฉู ูุงู ูุฌุจ ุงู ุชูุดู ูุชูุฌู.
ุชุขูู ุงูู ุนูู ูู ุนุงูู ููุจุดุฑ ุจุงูุฑุงุญุฉ ูุบุงูุฉุ
ููููู ุงูุฃูู ุ ุฐูู ุงูุฐู ูุง ูู ูู ู ุดููุฉ ูุง ูู ูู ุญุชู ุธููุงู ููู ููู ู ู ุดู ุณ ุงูุญูููุฉุ ููู ูุนูู ุงู ุชุณูุฑ ุฏูู ู ูุงูู ุฉุ
ุฏูู ุฎููุ
ุฏูู ููุฑุฉ ุชุดูู ุฑุฃุณู ุงููุนูู ุงูู ูุตูููุ
ุบูุงุจ ุงูู ุดููุฉ ููุณ ุฑุงุญุฉุ ุจู ุนุทุจู ุฑูุญูุ
ูุนูุฉ.
ู ู ูุง ู ุดููุฉ ููุ ูุง ููุฑุฉ ูุฏูู ูู ู ูุง ููุฑุฉ ููุ ูุง ูุฏู ููุ ูู ู ูุง ูุฏู ูู ูุง ุฐุงุช ูู.
ูู ุงููุญุธุฉ ุงูุชู ูุฎูู ูููุง ุงูุฅูุณุงู ู ู ุงูุตุฑุงุนุ
ุชุชุญููู ุญูุงุชู ุงูู ุฌู ูุฉู ุบูุฑ ู ูุชู ูุฉุ
ุงูู ู ุณูุฏุฉ ูุณุช ูุฏ ุงููุงุชุจ ุงู ู ุฒููุง.
ูุจุชุณู ุฏูู ุณุจุจุ
ูุชุญุฑู ุฏูู ุฏุงูุนุ
ูุชูุฉู ู ู ุงููุญู ุงูู ูุธู ุ ูุชููุณ ููุท ูุฃูู ูู ูุชุนูู ููู ูุฎุชูู.
ุงูุงุฎุชูุงู ูุนูู ู ู ุงูุนุงู ุงููุนู.
ูููู ููุชุดู " ู ู ูู ุณุจุจ ููุนูุดุ ูุชุญู ู ููู ููู".
ู ู ูุง ู ุดููุฉ ููุ ูุง ููู ูุง ูู ุงุฐุง ููุ ููุท ูุทูู.
ุงููุนูุฉ ุนูู ุนูู ูุง ูุฎุทุฆุ ูุง ููุชุฌ.
ุงูููุณ ุงูุชู ูุง ุชุนุงูู ูุง ุชูุชุฌ.
ุงูุนูู ุงูุฐู ูุง ูุฎุทุฆ ูุง ูุฏุฑู.
ุงูู ุดููุฉ ุงูู ูุงูุช ุชูุชุญ ุงูุจุงุจ ุงู ุงู ุงูุณุคุงูุ
ุงูุณุคุงู ูู ุงุตู ุงููุนู.
ูุนู ุฃููุฆู ุงูุฐูู ูุณูุทูู ููู ุงู ุจุนุฏ ููู ุ
ูู ุงููุญูุฏูู ุงูุฐูู ู ุง ุฒุงููุง ูู ูููู ู ุดููุฉ.
ุฃู ุง ุฃููุฆู ุงูุฐูู ูุง ูุณูุทูู ุฃุจุฏูุงุ
ููู ุณูุทูุง ู ู ุฒู ูู ุจุนูุฏุ
ููู ูุง ุฃุญุฏ ูุงุญูุธ.
ุซู ุฉ ุดูุก ุฎููู ูุณูู ุฃููุฆู ุงูุฐูู ูุง ูุนุงููู.
ูู ุดูู ุจูููุงุ ุจุฅูุฏุงู ูุง ุชูุซูููุง ุงูุฃุณุฆูุฉ.
ุจุฌุจุงูู ูุง ููุทุจูุง ุงููููุ ุฐูู ููุณ ุงูุณุงูุงูุ
ุจู ุดุจุญู ููุณุฎุฉู ูุงู ูุฌุจ ุงู ุชูุดู ูุชูุฌู.
ุชุขูู ุงูู ุนูู ูู ุนุงูู ููุจุดุฑ ุจุงูุฑุงุญุฉ ูุบุงูุฉุ
ููููู ุงูุฃูู ุ ุฐูู ุงูุฐู ูุง ูู ูู ู ุดููุฉ ูุง ูู ูู ุญุชู ุธููุงู ููู ููู ู ู ุดู ุณ ุงูุญูููุฉุ ููู ูุนูู ุงู ุชุณูุฑ ุฏูู ู ูุงูู ุฉุ
ุฏูู ุฎููุ
ุฏูู ููุฑุฉ ุชุดูู ุฑุฃุณู ุงููุนูู ุงูู ูุตูููุ
ุบูุงุจ ุงูู ุดููุฉ ููุณ ุฑุงุญุฉุ ุจู ุนุทุจู ุฑูุญูุ
ูุนูุฉ.
ู ู ูุง ู ุดููุฉ ููุ ูุง ููุฑุฉ ูุฏูู ูู ู ูุง ููุฑุฉ ููุ ูุง ูุฏู ููุ ูู ู ูุง ูุฏู ูู ูุง ุฐุงุช ูู.
ูู ุงููุญุธุฉ ุงูุชู ูุฎูู ูููุง ุงูุฅูุณุงู ู ู ุงูุตุฑุงุนุ
ุชุชุญููู ุญูุงุชู ุงูู ุฌู ูุฉู ุบูุฑ ู ูุชู ูุฉุ
ุงูู ู ุณูุฏุฉ ูุณุช ูุฏ ุงููุงุชุจ ุงู ู ุฒููุง.
ูุจุชุณู ุฏูู ุณุจุจุ
ูุชุญุฑู ุฏูู ุฏุงูุนุ
ูุชูุฉู ู ู ุงููุญู ุงูู ูุธู ุ ูุชููุณ ููุท ูุฃูู ูู ูุชุนูู ููู ูุฎุชูู.
ุงูุงุฎุชูุงู ูุนูู ู ู ุงูุนุงู ุงููุนู.
ูููู ููุชุดู " ู ู ูู ุณุจุจ ููุนูุดุ ูุชุญู ู ููู ููู".
ู ู ูุง ู ุดููุฉ ููุ ูุง ููู ูุง ูู ุงุฐุง ููุ ููุท ูุทูู.
ุงููุนูุฉ ุนูู ุนูู ูุง ูุฎุทุฆุ ูุง ููุชุฌ.
ุงูููุณ ุงูุชู ูุง ุชุนุงูู ูุง ุชูุชุฌ.
ุงูุนูู ุงูุฐู ูุง ูุฎุทุฆ ูุง ูุฏุฑู.
ุงูู ุดููุฉ ุงูู ูุงูุช ุชูุชุญ ุงูุจุงุจ ุงู ุงู ุงูุณุคุงูุ
ุงูุณุคุงู ูู ุงุตู ุงููุนู.
ูุนู ุฃููุฆู ุงูุฐูู ูุณูุทูู ููู ุงู ุจุนุฏ ููู ุ
ูู ุงููุญูุฏูู ุงูุฐูู ู ุง ุฒุงููุง ูู ูููู ู ุดููุฉ.
ุฃู ุง ุฃููุฆู ุงูุฐูู ูุง ูุณูุทูู ุฃุจุฏูุงุ
ููู ุณูุทูุง ู ู ุฒู ูู ุจุนูุฏุ
ููู ูุง ุฃุญุฏ ูุงุญูุธ.
We may be through with the past,
but the past is not through with us.
but the past is not through with us.
Shhh... It's Night again.
It's night again, so still, so wild.
The hour you let the ghost inside.
You crawl to bed, but to rest,
you come to dream, to build a nest.
Of thoughts too loud for light to bear,
of memories gasping for air.
And look at you, so soft, so wiled,
still dreaming like a grieving child.
Asking things that no one should ask,
wearing shadows like a mask.
How dare you knock on doors long closed?
How dare you hum the songs you chose?
The hush, it begs to obey,
But silence is your favorite prey.
You speak of whispers, no reply,
You kiss the dark, you don't ask why?
You talk to stars that do not hear,
And write to ones who won't come near.
A grateful night of dreams alone,
You call it yours, your heavy throne.
So scary, yes, but worse to feel
A life too numb to even heal.
You would rather ache than be ignored,
You would rather break than be bored.
So here you are, again and again,
Saying things no soul will know,
To winds that pass, to time below.
You hush the world with every sigh...
But no one listens. NO ONE. Why?
It's night again, so still, so wild.
The hour you let the ghost inside.
You crawl to bed, but to rest,
you come to dream, to build a nest.
Of thoughts too loud for light to bear,
of memories gasping for air.
And look at you, so soft, so wiled,
still dreaming like a grieving child.
Asking things that no one should ask,
wearing shadows like a mask.
How dare you knock on doors long closed?
How dare you hum the songs you chose?
The hush, it begs to obey,
But silence is your favorite prey.
You speak of whispers, no reply,
You kiss the dark, you don't ask why?
You talk to stars that do not hear,
And write to ones who won't come near.
A grateful night of dreams alone,
You call it yours, your heavy throne.
So scary, yes, but worse to feel
A life too numb to even heal.
You would rather ache than be ignored,
You would rather break than be bored.
So here you are, again and again,
Saying things no soul will know,
To winds that pass, to time below.
You hush the world with every sigh...
But no one listens. NO ONE. Why?
I saw. I thought.
I found. I lost.
I looked. I searched.
I panicked. I begged.
I fought. I tried.
I'm here. You're there.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
It's here. It's now.
It's real. It hurts.
It burned. It passed.
It passed?
No. It stayed.
It stayed and watched.
Where is it?
What?
Where?
I found.
I smiled.
I broke.
I cried.
I dreamt.
I died.
And yet,
I breathe.
I wait.
I write.
I found. I lost.
I looked. I searched.
I panicked. I begged.
I fought. I tried.
I'm here. You're there.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
It's here. It's now.
It's real. It hurts.
It burned. It passed.
It passed?
No. It stayed.
It stayed and watched.
Where is it?
What?
Where?
I found.
I smiled.
I broke.
I cried.
I dreamt.
I died.
And yet,
I breathe.
I wait.
I write.
Perhaps.
Perhaps friends, perhaps lovers,
Perhaps an idea once desired by a wandering mind.
Perhaps tomorrow.
Perhaps today.
Perhaps the other day,
we'll find what was once thought.
Perhaps it's here, unseen.
Perhaps it's there, unreached.
Perhaps we'll find it, and adore it.
Perhaps we have it, but look past it.
Perhaps we presumed it was right.
Perhaps... it is right.
Perhaps it's not to be misconceived.
Perhaps it's here, and there, and everywhere.
Perhaps it's nothing, nowhere, not at all but a whisper of a belief.
Perhaps it's certain.
Perhaps it trembles.
Perhaps we can create it.
Perhaps... we can't.
Perhaps we're mortal.
Perhaps we're not.
Perhaps we live forever.
Perhaps we vanish tomorrow.
Perhaps to the idea,
Perhaps to the feeling,
Perhaps to all things,
And nothing at all.
Perhaps friends, perhaps lovers,
Perhaps an idea once desired by a wandering mind.
Perhaps tomorrow.
Perhaps today.
Perhaps the other day,
we'll find what was once thought.
Perhaps it's here, unseen.
Perhaps it's there, unreached.
Perhaps we'll find it, and adore it.
Perhaps we have it, but look past it.
Perhaps we presumed it was right.
Perhaps... it is right.
Perhaps it's not to be misconceived.
Perhaps it's here, and there, and everywhere.
Perhaps it's nothing, nowhere, not at all but a whisper of a belief.
Perhaps it's certain.
Perhaps it trembles.
Perhaps we can create it.
Perhaps... we can't.
Perhaps we're mortal.
Perhaps we're not.
Perhaps we live forever.
Perhaps we vanish tomorrow.
Perhaps to the idea,
Perhaps to the feeling,
Perhaps to all things,
And nothing at all.