Litkicks Message Board Archive

boiling down

Posted to Poetry

inevitably it all boils down to nothing,
like an epiphany ridden till it frayed out
leaving only dust and an unsatisfied thirst for
inquisition parching the throat of the soul who had not the common sense to let it burst aloud into the world
like the war torn but well worn faces of men returning from battle laughing in the face of life itself because they thought they weren't supposed to live through the night,
and with the morning dew soaking their pants and soggy feet
they sit and rest for once really appreciating the warmth the sun brings and the miracles of their senses,
and carry out their lives either slowly going mad or just trying to hold on to that feeling until it all boils down and the only survivors from that battle are the memories,
one day this world will end and that is as inescapable as it is inexplicable, but it did not end today...and tomorrow is on it's way, so I'm told.