When All is Gone

The harsh reality of the mind of human beings. This poem holds our faults accountable and answers some uneasy questions. I actually wrote this poem over a year ago but it has stuck with me ever since. My writing style has changed quite a bit from some

The complications of the human mind clash with the simplicity of the world,
Through right and wrong our feelings become tangled with morals and pleasure,
We contradict our heart and soul only to let our hands become filthy with hatred and revenge,
Each step seems to lead us to mere turmoil and another mountain in our way,
And yet we ignore the truth and follow those with egotistical and "me over you" philosophies,
With dreams of beauty through money and possessions,
We are garanteed to fall,
As humans we have yet to realize that we will fail eachother,
We will hurt those we love,
But that does not imply to let all go and live for ourselves,
Time can not stop just as we can not stop loving,
It is in our nature to nurture those we care for,
The only problem is the trust we burden them with,
Then when the building crumbles and all is gone,
We trade the blame from ourselves to those closest,
Indeed we are errored beings trying to balance our beliefs and emotions,
Some say that the mind is tainted when young,
But as time goes and the years grow,
That justification does not hold,
It is only us in a contradicting world,
We cover our eyes with a veil telling ourselves that there is no right or wrong,
Over history people have tried to blur this line making it hard to see,
But when all is gone,
When the pleasure no longer exists and we are only left with the effects of our choices,
We become merely human again,
No one is greater than the other,
Just existing,
And at that time when our tower of sand drifts out to sea,
Our lives of contradiction and hypocritical actions was wasted,
When that all goes away,
We are left with nothing,
So instead of putting that trust onto a mere person,
Place it in perfection,
In the truest beauty to ever exist,
Look to God,
Then you stand on a rock that will not fall and you lean on a presence that will never fail,
You are not depending on the human mind,
It's because of that that we faulter,
Money and material items will not take you places,
Only farther into the grave we dig ourselves,
So instead of burrowing into your own death,
Start building a latter,
Because there is life after death,
It's just up to you on how you want to spend it.

Author's Note

This poem is what I like to call chicken stratch. It really is all over the place, but it weaves together in the oddest of ways. Please keep that in mind.