A Silent Penumbra,
Greets what's been written to right the world, Yet I believe; That in my living of death, my words might change this earth... Inspiring a bit more positive notes, Bearing witness to sorrow, mourning and doubt, But also joy in the aftermath of said mourning, Mending an internal prayer of healing as sorrow fades away, Doubt is a watcher's conscious wound; Stand up and join the stanza of the human condition crowd. Get involved.
The saddest thing will be that in death I should be entirely misunderstood, as a man who longed merely to die, Too weak to take his own life. No witness exists to grant testimony to how I lived. How positivity endorses my every moment, A smile fixated upon my greying yet oft pierced & bearded to hide the gaunt face.
How I rebuilt my body twice, Once from an accident the second from being anorexic, Because I wanted a healthy frame for a future someday who might find a way to my side, Even if it only lasted for a short time, To be re-inspired of memory of love; Trapped now only in dreams and hollowed out rehashed too often recollection of anamnesis.
Impossible to fathom however, when not even your parents, who claim to know you better than yourself and love you above all, have any wish to understand anything about you. I have never known the joy of being who I am in love or being granted the acceptance of the greatest cosmic gift of beauty, An majestic inter-relational image mingled in a painting wherein is trapped a scene immobilized between twilight's grace and dawn's waking eyes amidst a smile; So intoxicating to the heart... In dreams.
To retell the tale of old, How I spent ten thousand lonely nights pouring out myself upon digital pages for the sake of that which I recant myself an impossibility to find upon this earth, Masked is the decadence of love from this version of self, In the forever after shall I continue to describe the lingering fascination with the most beautiful faith, Virtue living in every second for another; For this escapes me and it is called love.
Some will surely say I lead a most deplorable boring non-existence, Sheltering myself away from the moments I describe as living in reverse Carpe Diem, But someone has to inspire... Someone has to write and I believe in the words I've written. Whence ever my imagination came to be functional in isolation yet remain attached to live in day dreams of life beyond my four walls, I am grateful!
When it is you find your dream, Someday you will realize that to obtain or share on a scale worthy of said wish born of the soul, That dedication is necessary. Thus I live to write, and maybe also to smile! Remember that now matters more than yesterday or even tomorrow, so find yourself believing in what you can do, Grow in it, See where it will take you! I should never have fathomed this day having written what I have, being even capable of such endeavours, nor would I have sought the path I now walk...
Yet I am utterly content to write in the silence until Death, She finds me vacant of jest and all words are entirely spent, I should be devoid and ready to accept the final exhale before the grasp of the hollow dark.
In earnest anticipation of,
Juton
Ps. I love all of you.
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