Immortal

Immortality is a heavy burden to bear.

Without anything

to define.

Without any form,

simply fluid.

Without substance,

I breathe,

“Immortal.”

 

The immortal that is

part of me.

The immortal that

I know.

Breathe into me

and make me

truly real.

I am immortal

and not alive.

 

Dead inside.

I have tried

to make

myself real.

Surreal.

Something lingering,

but never corporal.

A ghost in a universe,

on two planes being

pulled either way.

Without definition,

I exist only

for myself.

 

I was created

from aether,

the breath of gods.

I was born

to make this world

shine anew.

To rouse the people

from the filthy rubble

and polish them till

their luster blinds.

I was born

to live eternity,

and after,

in the faces

of crumbling statues

and eloquent edifices.

 

Immortal.

Forever.

Eternity.

Long-lasting.

Never-ending.

Ageless.

To describe a delicious idea

that makes the mouths

of the greedy salivate

with a want so

powerful it becomes a need

is impossible.

I am the essence

of immortality.

My blood gives no

extra life or sustenance

if consumed.

My heart beats

with a will of its own.

 

Without substance,

how can my immortal

be defined?

No words.

Only emotions and ideas

that gift one with the

comprehension of what is.

How can one possibly understand

something beyond their grasp?

My immortal

is mine and mine alone.

Christ’s cross to bear,

the entire world on Atlas’s shoulders.

No one nor no thing

will deter me from

this fate.

My fate.

And my final choice.

It shall belong

to no one else.

 

Between worlds and planes,

I live in eternity

without substance or

definition or

form or

true life or

reality or

breath.

I remain my

immortal.

Author's Note

Very loosely based on "My Immortal" by Evanescence.
It outlines the drawbacks and the advantages of truly being immortal.