Syllable

A bit of spoken poetry of my everyday thoughts.

Death

One word

One syllable

How can something so small create something so big

Another word

One syllable

Fear

I don't fear Death

I don't know when I stopped

When did this love begin

Was it when Mother Earth took in her children even after they disgraced her and died upon her skin

People spend their whole lives avoiding a one syllable word

When did I become the one to runs towards it

When did Death become beautiful

I remember the exact moment the idea was planted in my mind

A seed given by the devil but perhaps on good intentions

Now I can see inside the room of the blind

Sometimes I wish I wasn't given sight

I see too much

You see so little

Our eyes do not meet

They are not even in the same room

My lover is Death

And she is mine

I long for her embrace

Her lips upon mine

But I know I have many more lips to kiss before hers