Foreshadow

The value of things is not the time they last,

but the intensity with which they occur.

-Fernando Pessoa

I'm exhausted with the world,
for nothing is gained in such tumult.

A stillness consumes.

And I let this silence place me:
before the passing waters,
before the inexorable night,
before the wisdom of trees;

And I let the weight of truthfulness
outweigh the heaviness of this body
as the wind rustles the eyelash
and the eye continues to travel inward.

These stirrings are no longer pleasant
but a rather necessary distraction
to strip away the illusions that hold.

I'm exhausted with reality
and the emptiness I now perceive
in the colorless roses of my memories.

I'm perpetually cognizant, dear,
and there's nothing that can be undone
and there's nothing that can be unseen.

Then, how can it come to be
that the grass is still green inside our hearts?

To be, is an effortless incident,
and along the way we lose some things
because they are not meant to stay within.

12:43am