The steady ambience of a breeze swept up the backs of mountain hills, lures a flock of trying prey to its promising tops.
A high like no other, you can hold the entire world from here.
Grazing on fresh springs here, some won't live their whole lives.
That's the way of this world, we won't all make it.
Try that for a dinner-table conversation, why don't you?
Spring falls around every year without fail,
seasons change and they will repeat themselves again
and again
and again,
an unadjustable cycle.
"So, what then? If we don't all get our chances, I mean."
Hmpfh
We work until our backs break,
and when our spring comes around again
we compete with the new batch of life-stock.
"Hey YOU over there! Ready for round 13?!!!"
We can't wipe off the smirk that persists,
but we laugh tragedy off of our shoulders like it's nothing.
We've had so much of it,
it really isn't anything to get over anymore.
Like crazed lovers or killer couples we break our backs again,
and again
and again
and live our lives, complete.
YOU ARE READING
Once Upon A Time, Time Stopped
PoetryDon't let your mind wander too far, for it will lose its selves - soul, thought and body. A soul that has lost its body is like a cat straying until it cannot pick up the familar scent of home anymore. It never returns, falling slave to a human God...
