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talking to myself

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Or so it seems

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Or so it seems

It is in the deep darkness of the night,

when all is silent and calm,

is when thoughts come of true reality.

Not the props that we call real when fully awake,

our jobs,


the people we know,

those beneath our concern of course

for our worth comes from comparisons.

Amid the sheets,

we see the abyss that swallows all,

everything we hold dear,

our power,

wealth and youth,

our families,


and yes our enemies

one by one fall into emptiness

or it seems so.

Our planet,

the Sun we dance around,

the galaxy that is our home,

et al,

will one day to be as if it never were.

Length of time matters not

for once gone,

time ceases only silent nothingness remains,

from where there is no escape

or so it seems.

I believe otherwise despite what I often feel,

the terror that screams at me that all is naught,

for an inner certainty stays alive,

I am captured by it's dark presence

though it is truly the light,

the finite blinded by the infinite.

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