The Rorschach

poem

Memories; fading slowly, a hint of cigarette smoke

Breaking from the world for self realization

Patiently awaiting the answers that are so relentlessly sought

Or so this mad-man once thought

So sudden the horizon shot,

loveless bits etched in ink blots,

The Rorschach resembles a place that echoes indefinably

That many things such as: love, life, and death, can be seen so differently

Who needs a key to someone's heart?

All locks can be picked, no matter their maker

And if time causes scars to fade with age,

So the lock rusts, chips, and breaks away

Sunless days lay ahead, 

From this heart this ink has been bled

Tomorrow is always waiting,

But one day the waiting shall end

To the heaven's above, this heart, mind, and soul shall ascend

And who used to believe that two hearts could blend

Nothing but childish wishes

One more puff from this cigarette,

You whisper softly, begging for an answer

What do I see when I look into your eyes?

What lies in the dark blots of the Rorschach you ask?

What lies after tomorrow, after the sun has gone and passed?

Death, death is inevitable and so it sprawls itself upon this mind,

One more puff from this cigarette and calmly but vaguely remember the line

That death isn't measured with time!