The Temporal Singularity

A poem about depression

Herein lies the destiny of all sorrow
fear mutated from something to another,
reality of a four-dimensional frame twisted
birth and death, the infinite spiral retained.
The undoing of all things that matter
formulation shattered entropy’s undertow
where gods themselves fear to roam
an obsidian evening that never slumbers
photons mourning their fallen brethren
in worst of days and twisted timbres
through fire and scorn,
we abhor, the emptiness that withers,
through the last doors,
a final reckoning with the Moirai,
that have lost their way.
In blue-shifted dismal sight,
upon the boundless boundary
of final finite goodbye
do I intend to say,
that I do not wish to sleep alone today?
To ponder the warmth of another,
almost a forgotten relic of ancient times
like the dead, that chase, and remiss
that last desire before the passing.
Can I ever pretend to be happy,
to really smile without the pain?
I fear you see it,
in hazel eyes of disdain,
I fear that in every line,
lies the eater of light
For that, I cannot
lie nor abide
it’s interminable
watching eye.

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