Every grain of sand that falls to count a second in my head slows down beyond my conscious grasp and death is closer than the passing of this grand illusion that repeats itself.
Even when one fell from the heavens into hell
Overwhelming is the image of the universe still held within the hourglass that was, is, forever will be, inconceivable
Relatively speaking, there is nothing that's worth keeping,
Dragging, kicking, screaming, just succumb into the meaningless meaning of the wait, and that of dreaming
Slowly Let the heart soar free, finding that which brings in love and feeling of serenity in the face of the ultimate calamity.
Greatest balance act of this and all past centuries, isn't meant for anyone, just the ones with nothing left to lose.
At the end I still have nothing, even when the sand has cleared
I'm just weary, lost and broken, but at least I felt something.
After all is said and done, these accomplishments, this fun, send them off and get prepared, for a new day births in
Poetry by Psyche