As I am surrounded
By a thousand lost souls
I find serenity
In not knowing
If it is I who is the lost one
And
If it is they who hold the key
Where the beauty then?
The perfection of our existence?
Is it I
Who is mistaken?
I have seen the truest form of art
A masterpiece
That may have been forged
But
Certainly
Was no mistake
Could it just be chance?
I am
The unluckiest man among men
I have been graced
With the best things in life
Only to witness there destruction
My enemy is my mind
My hands
It's ally
Is it my dissident
That will lead to my demise?
I think not
For
Through all the darkness
I have still found light
Through all of the hate
Have found love
And
Through all of my maladies
Have found
Peace of mind
Still
I find bliss in all of it
Where the beauty then?
An artist unknown
Who
Blindly
Holds many different names?
I thank this artist
Whoever he or she may be
For
I am from a decadent generation
Of mindless swill
Who
Turn out beauty
For self gratification
And
Meaningless aesthetics
Who
Penetrate every good thing
With gross abandon
The downfall
The destroyers
The dead generation
Yet
I see beauty
Through all the chaos
There
Is no one perfect
Perfection is our existence
We are the beautiful tragedy
The masterpiece
A true work of art
And
As these days get darker
And
They surely will
Let us not forget
The beauty all around us
Whether
By chance
Or
By mistake
Let it not affect our motives for living
But
Living should be our motive
To strive for the unattainable
To breathe life back into
A morose generation of lost
Hopeless souls
Who is this artist
Whose creation has been defaced
By senseless imbeciles
Who swarm the earth
Like
Maggots on a rotting carcass
The gluttonous swine
Who devour
Everything in there presence
Who is this artist?
That I may never know
And
If I should never come to find the answer
It will have been
For no lack of trying
But
Rather
A lack of mind
And
Absolution
There is no certainty in faith
Faith
Is merely an instrument
To appease the mind
To
Give us comfort in death
But
It is not death that I fear
I fear
A society sedated by the notion of eternal life
A society
So content in this notion
That
They are ready to fight and die
Those who believe that they have found this artist
We all so desire to know
Who put faith in this artist
And
Give everything
For nothing in return
YOU ARE READING
At First Glance
PoetryWell, this started originally as a plan to put up all my old writings from early teens on but has kinda developed into it's own new thing. Some are old and some are just thoughts as they come to me. All the ups and downs and things once thought mayb...
