Time in passing - Poetic attempts - Black Birds Fly
" There were periods of melancholy,
I wrote page after page of monologues,
In the hope that words dissolve emotions, or vice versa.
Solitude is one to be dealt with ease,
As loneliness is no equivalent to the state of being alone,
So is the latter appreciated or even treasured at times.
Authenticity is hard to come by, let alone be measured in terms of objectivity.
An image you present to an audience and spectators alike, sheds light in no way on the true self,
The deception of which works both ways, however framed in whichever worlds. "
" Walking these streets of familiarity,
Off the sidewalk sat a man with his aging wife,
Dispersing the same scent of antiseptic wipes, it wasn't you, I knew.
In search of something that was never there,
Sought certainty in all the wrong places,
Truth be told to the count of three, it had not been hidden to start with.
In rushed crowds of impetuous teens
Windows and doors struck, pandemonium unleashed.
You lived not, the experience or lack thereof validated this,
And only this mere existence of yours.
The low and the lower, stretch them out, we shall,
See where dots were joined. "
Footnote: when programming tutorials inspire poetry.