Life's End

As my life nears the end, I see a myriad of colors of the human spirit. The music plays with undeniable beauty, the notes floating into empty space. The player pounds the keys only to his tune, believing that life is only for him. The artist paints only to satisfy his own emotions of desperation. Thought expression is only superficial, denying the truth of beauty the soul can envisage. It is a sea of chaotic endeavors, waves crashing on the shore without control. It is an arid desert encroaching ever so slowly, speeding up with time, and extracting the very breath of life.

 

As my life nears the end, the human spirit sees the importance of love, undeniable, inexcusable, considerate and unwavering. It is the sadness of existence that scars the human soul, inconsiderate of the loss, compromising its selfish trek to self-satisfaction, ultimately to self-destruction, denying the truth of others and ones own.

 

As my life nears the end, a life of wonderful magic and yet, excruciating pain, I see the lack of spirit in the union of souls, religiously manipulating existence and life itself. Sacredness has become causality. Spiritual union has become self-fulfilling.

 

As my life nears the end and the waters pour from the mind, tears that drown the very depth of the soul, existence being futile, no return and no forward, a vast space of emptiness, no brilliant light to guide and no darkness to fear, only pain of knowing and yet not knowing, only joys of seeing and yet not seeing, only music to feel and yet no sound.