In Finite

With the air of the room dyed black

And the stillness ensuing

The senses are all turned off to the world

Save the ear’s listening to the invisible clock.

Then the time expires until each click

Becomes discernible from its prior

And each sound becomes its own word

Then an incantation- a chant

“Death is coming. Death is coming.”

Then it’s back again

The spark that every night ignites

The burning of insomnia

The question that reaches back again

With each resurrection of the moon

Like ocean tides

“What’s going to happen then?”

The involuntary question that breaks in

And spins around in my head

Agnosticism becomes an anxiety attack as I Imagine

Complete nothingness.

Something so simple, the simplest thing in the universe-

Absence.

I imagine the lack of consciences

The blackness of the room, without sound, without taste

Without touch, without smell, without emotion

Without memories.

Then the thick air around me closes in and crushes me,

There couldn’t even be blackness without a conscious.

Now I’m mangling with the repetition

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

And soon enough, I’m wishing for it

The absence of thought,

Freedom from the knowledge and lack thereof.

I think back to when, I didn’t know

I recall when my mind was clean

Before I could make questions without answers

Before that day that mother found me crying

Saying “I’m going to die! I’m going to die! I’m going to die!”

The day I realized endings were not just for stories

The day I realized each candle on the cake really meant

One less

The day I realized the cruelty of clocks

Allowing us to hear our life drain away

Announcing with their indifference

“Nothing is coming”

Reviews

[A Lonely Girl]

This is deep. It brings about the question of death and the after life, which happens to be my worst fear. Emotions were brought out as I was reading this. Really, a job well done. You are a talented poet :)