Loss

Everything fades inevitably, everything goes away in the end. Whether it's a time, or place, or person; a lover, or a friend. I wrote this on a train, coming home from Download Festival. I'm not entirely sure what inspired it; maybe just the urge t

Pain; the first conceit,
promise and consecration.
Some would call it love;
mayhap, and some would call it sin.
And I would call it living, love;
watch it begin again.

Yes we are slaves to urges,
broken toys, in aimless dance,
to scattered tunes. Afraid;
I fear; our songs are over,
silenced by our failings, feeling;
we falter without knowing,
crying without seeing.

Swallowed by the world uncaring,
we tumble from embrace,
oblivion waiting beyond sleep,
found outwith those arms,
all-encompassing, everlasting,
inevitable in their coming absence

Author's Note

Feedback welcomed :)