51 lines
1.8 KiB
Plaintext
51 lines
1.8 KiB
Plaintext
|
airborne
|
||
|
|
2022-01-01
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
***
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
before, in your grief, you decree
|
||
|
|
"my life is over; there's no one left to be"
|
||
|
|
just remember how there's a world only you can perceive
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
stumbling through shattered nights as you pray
|
||
|
|
for a world solely yours where you'll finally be safe
|
||
|
|
and protected from coercion, christened Sablade
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
but of hell, ceasing pains, perdition terrified
|
||
|
|
"Mother, what will you do with my body when I die?
|
||
|
|
I've failed, been rejected, inept at this living I've been assigned."
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
reunited with your lover who swore to be your psychopomp
|
||
|
|
when arrives the fateful end of the Eschaton
|
||
|
|
you know intellectually that all should end alright
|
||
|
|
but still lingers some doubt, some expectation of blight
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
because all in your life has ended or will soon enough:
|
||
|
|
summer camp disbanded, work holding no love
|
||
|
|
despite the months poured in, the electronics that broke,
|
||
|
|
the remnants of childhood insisting it's time to go
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
and in six months, you'll finally from college graduate
|
||
|
|
having slipped by without a single accusation of hate
|
||
|
|
"Can you believe it? The worst is over. The end is near.
|
||
|
|
You'll make it out alive. Have faith in yourself, my dear."
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
you step back and consider the terrifying odds:
|
||
|
|
the only one in the heavens that wants a world without gods
|
||
|
|
is the girl you exchanged a part of your soul
|
||
|
|
with in Rainroom, an Outside away and a whole life ago
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
but to give her that world could mean Mori's bliss
|
||
|
|
and what's the point of it all if you can't also live
|
||
|
|
in the world you've created, that you swore on your life
|
||
|
|
you'd live together with her until the cessation of time?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
dear child, you remembered your wings and recalled how to fly
|
||
|
|
but you're being chased to a cliff and the edge looms nearby:
|
||
|
|
will you prostate yourself and live in self-scorn?
|
||
|
|
or jump off the edge and trust you'll become airborne?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
***
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|