Has it all gone, like the breeze through and open window? Have all the stars faded and turned to dust, covering the setting sun? Is all that was not found in the last hours of the last, dying day, the only day left before tomorrow is it lost forever? Or will the sun find the strength through its trials and travesties to shake off the dust of the night, of yesterday, and rise again to its full glory, misunderstood and unappreciated, giving everything it can, everything it has to an ungrateful people who toss back only curses and regrets?

Is tomorrow today? And yesterday as well? What star will shine for me, after the one in my hand fell away to darkness? I held on to the last wisps of light like sand in my fist... it flew away. It was not meant for me... is anything?

The whole world is dust... sand... ash.... Remnants of a forgotten future? A soul clings to every lonely star fading into the night every dawn, To die another death, the death of life, of rebirth
All
Is
Lost

The answers to questions lie in the meanings behind them. Is there a reason to rise again, dear sun? Is your life lived to die? Or is there something more, something worth waiting for, worth crying for? Worth bleeding and scarring for?? Is tomorrow another yesterday or will there be something else behind the radiant beams of cold light? Will not one star remain? Will not one soul survive its life? The dust of a thousand ages fills the air and weighs it down, chokingly. With every breath dragging me closer to life, filling my lungs with its emptiness.

The world is dust and I am a star... I turn to dust and bury the sun. The sun, the very sun, which is my mirror and my destruction

I don’t understand...
...why he kissed me.











My Poems on FictionPress:
For what is a poem but a hazardous attempt at self-understanding: it is the deepest part of autobiography. –Robert Warren