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Better to Be
Born of a vacuum
Surrounded by sound
Coiled springs, ready
To bolt, to run, to fight.
Lightest touch able to
Devastate in it's fragility.
Too numb to care,
Lay the soul bare.
Countless sightless stares
Pile up, a cacophany
Mounting horror and fear
As Death draws near,
Pulling all into her
Inevitable embrace.
But the mortal coil
Shivers and quakes,
Unable to comprehend
Silence's truths,
The beauty of nothing
And peace found in
Emptiness.
For to be blank
Is unusual.
Most consider it better
To be filled, fat with
Heavy weighted words,
Ideals and beliefs able
To drown those who carry them.
Nothing is true.
Everything is questioned.
Better to be the blank page.
It has so many possibilities.
I Used To B
a blank page, then I started writing what I knew and each year the page's ink became more costly for use. In the end, all we are is our words, our pictures, what we leave for future blank pages. At 64, blank anything equals mortality "...peace found in emptiness..." Awesome! I liked this one lots, read 3 x - Just Bein' Stella
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