abundant futility

there’s a place in this world where i would go
if ever i needed the life,
to be restored to my inner soul
i would run a thousand miles,
i would go to the place.
something i jinxed from far away,
a place to go i’d never know,
somewhere i would run if i had to,
feeling the least bit sorry
i’d never know the truth.
lush forest and luxurious valley
spread with the mountains,
profligate scenery
yet abundant to silence.
a bestow of water
yet after the rain,
lavishly butterflied
unhappily forlorn to the knowledge
that life would be everlasting.
dreamer, folly and obscure,
a sibyl with the most life-filled
and heartwarming tale,
who would, mite be i.
i hearsay
pour my heart out to the world,
in a misty anecdote of
showered rain.
perfectly mesmerised by sweet,
sweet pure negligent essence,
running across the plain and desert
wondering and hoping,
nothing may i ask for
through death or life,
will i ever think in a different way,
restore me dear life
give me your power.
looking around like a lost ghost,
help i long for
part two of the seraph light.
ice glowing through water
in no ones presence,
there’s sometimes a sonata,
i hear it play softly
music to my ears.
moods so sylphlike,
warm hearted and hard stone,
killing the air
like innocent oblivion.
i want to run away,
can’t run away from myself,
though i fear,
fears that i dream like insanity,
vividly dreaming of an immortal
absence to the thought.
snow falls like lemon drops
sour yet sweet,
papyrus reeds still in water
fish like jewels on its surface.
love is a many splendor thing,
it hurts on the inside,
emotions burned in eternal flame.
friendships and hardships
turned away from reality,
but this is the world we live in,
we can’t really change
if we don’t learn to share,
sorry can be one word
hard to say but makes things right.
it isn’t enough to say,
meaning plays its role
whether fate comes in or not,
icy stars fall from blackness.
proverbs psalms and beautiful prayers,
lonesome heartfelt sinful gem,
happiness lives
yet morally does
occasionally hurts the loving soul.
duck soup a cure,
pretty prissy perfect and lifeless,
a broken soliloquy,
dilatory through nowhere
the place i go
like a shire
empty rippling oceans,
pebble stone and waterfall,
calm to the rose.
the past is beautiful
but the future is what lies
a dead cadaver in snow.
beauty of whatever kind
in its supreme development
invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears.
dark night and embrace,
delight to the soul,
a beautiful sense,
so far away from the beginning
the start of time.
heaven can hold
yet hardly enough,
restored me to death
sent me to life,
and held me until spirit
came down and remained.
amity so cynical,
an optimist amiable,
everyone free to dream
big or small,
dreams will take you somewhere
terrible and ferrible.
a butterfly lives to its own extent,
we can’t learn to live
like much gist,
a misty sea of blue
sent away at the shore,
let go of the chance
to be restored.
life and sagacity
mix but don’t form
to a one and only magnificence.
paradise is like a geode,
lovely of plain beauty,
paradise sends those who dream
to see true,
but false can’t die,
world cannot perfect,
we only see a delusion
a clear crystal,
view of a most
fruitless vision.
though half deplora
eucalypta and sunflower,
dandelion to yellow rose.
a time when peace speaks,
when orchids grow on
one-storey house walls,
when the rain falls
like crystal tears.
a story of something new,
the beauty of something gone,
seconds of delusional misery,
minutes of deathly silence,
hours of lonely vengeance,
pass quickly by.
a fallacy is the dream
we once always had,
of a perfect place
yet a mirage to enter the jaded
world of unknown
lies indefinite as a hallucination.
i had no life,
i never restored,
it was simply a dream
where life was gone
and death was suffered.
i ran to the place
forever forgotten,
but the life i longed for,
the spirit to restore my inner soul
was no more.
all my life i had been living
a delusion
that was affected by
serendipity.

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