Even the good music is sad.
Dark thoughts.
Death lurks.
It is everywhere.
We are but flames,
waiting for a gust of wind.
Then what?
If I knew,
I wouldn’t be here.
But my angst creates art.
I’m proud of that.
Yet I think of all the others.
Who’s voices aren’t heard.
Who don’t have support.
Who feel so alone.
I feel alone,
even when I’m not.
I have a loving family.
A beautiful wife.
Still.
Creeping loneliness.
I ache for God.
For purpose.
If you’re out there.
Alone.
Suffering.
I love you.
Perhaps together,
we can build a mighty fire,
and when that gust comes,
we’ll know that the light,
is still going to be there.
Even without us.
Such is our fate.
We flames in the night.
Poetry