twentytwo

Leaves grow, burn and fall
Life is born, lives and dies
like a mechanical clock.
But life flows over us,
and we are transported
to remote shores of existence,
where time stalls,
feelings break in the waves,
and life loses meaning
to sensations, passions, and hopes.

My life grew out of the barrel of a gun
straight and purpouseful.
And yet my heart, drunk,
is now waving this gun as a wand reaching for spells.
I thought my aim was true,
but the targets,
shifting with responsibility,
were dead well before my shot.
I only now recognize the deceit,
looking over the landscape laying about me
littered with dead purpouse.
I fall on my knees, and let go of the trusted gun,
gasping for air, as the Garden of Eden I was hunting in
reveals itself a desert;
elegant, silent, and noble.... but lifeless