Four Hundred
Sometimes the whole world spins out of control
While sometimes everything seems to makes sense.
But sense is just man’s perception of sanity.
Sometimes life’s simplicities are deceivingly so.
Sometimes complication fades away into the night,
A time of solitude and unawareness.
Sometimes the night’s a place of all-knowing,
The answer to Alexander’s knot.
Sometimes we can’t save ourselves,
Sometimes we need a golden angle.
An angel to fly down from the heavens and cast a shadow of forgiveness.
Sometimes angels don't have time to save humanity,
Sometimes humanity can’t be saved.
Sometimes pain doesn’t lead to perfection just more pain.
Sometimes practice doesn’t make perfection just mediocrity.
Sometimes what we want more then anything
Is the one thing we can’t have.
Sometimes the slightest ray of hope becomes
A moment of certainty.
Sometimes we wake up and realize that it’s all a dream,
The prospect of impossibility rears once more.
Sometimes we realize we were never asleep.
Sometimes the possibility of salvation
Is enough to make those most sane to ask questions,
Questions of conditional importance
Sometimes time stops,
Stops without a whisper,
Without warning or heed.
Sometimes we aren’t ready for reality to reset.
Sometimes dreams are just dreams
But sometimes they are gateways,
Gateways to our desires,
Desires hidden beneath denial and sanity.
Sometimes it would be easier to lose sanity,
Familiar vexations thwart at the past
While world renowned dangers smile at the future.
Who knew xanthic locks could drive dedication
While swarthy musing could raise boredom.
Who knew light would shower succession
While the kings throne shows naught.
Who knew everything must run its course,
Finish forever and today.
Everything must end but so soon?
As we find peace time dictates our futures,
Reminds us of our pasts,
Shows us were we’ve been.
Time isn’t a kind man,
A compassionate man,
Nor is he a forgiving man.
He shows us fixation but not change.
Never change.
We see the paths we’ve tread
But never where they lead.
Greater dementia in the corn maze is welcomed.
A battle with ones own sanity
Proves to be greater then that of the sword,
Greater then that of the hammer,
And certainly greater then that of the suitor
Though certainly not diverse.
The gift of capability will not be passed,
Neither shared nor spoken.
Inevitable rain will fall,
Fall from a cloud of relief,
And remembrance of that great and fierce.
Fall from midnight ramblings too senseless to speak
And unfinished vows scripted before reflected
Tributes to almost;
Almost a life time of awkwardness,
Almost worlds apart,
Almost side by side.
Sometime we just don’t run fast enough.
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