Death, She And I Have Danced Before(Pulse Poetry)

Poem By O.S. Brooks

Where as...
this moment
this unsettled breath we call time
can not be captured
I stand inhaling the heavy notion against it

So I,
the Poet,
the unsettled soul within the sun,
declare this exhale wasted

And Yet,
it's cleaning up my lungs
clearing and creating room for freedom
I breath over joyed
for freedom and her sisters to ring
Liberty, I sing the songs of my father's ghost
welcoming change and knowing she rarely ripens
this time it's stenciled on my heart
the words spell L.O.V.E
meaning mother, meaning son,
meaningless days multiply together
creating depression
I sink so deep into the idea of progression
that an ant step forward
was worth my moving back
Time
We waste minutes
as if we'll live forever
Yet,
We've got an expiration date Indented on our vessel
Thus,
The space between life, death
pleasure, pain, ignorance, and wisdom
Holds us,
while death is watching,
I feel her presence.
Her cool breath on the back of my neck
reminds me she hasn't gone
She waits with a fist full of ambition
Waiting
To collect my soul
Waiting, tapping her finger on my door while running out of patience
Yet, I say
I shall live after my death forever
through my good works
deeds and the people I've changed
I shall remain
planted a seed
unchanged by the wind
For now,
I stand ready for death to come
In the narrow wake of my morning
COME
In shadows of my stressful afternoon
COME
While I'm dreaming on empty
COME
I shall not run
She and I have danced before
yet, during war were interrupted
She danced that night with many others
but, never came back for me
Thus,
I've excepted this
Time, this breath, this daunting notion
This space between heaven and hell
Where only one thing is set sure
Time will run up and death will provail
Still, I never
stop dreaming, breathing, and succeeding
She hates the unbareable fact that I create with God
It keeps her pacing out side my kitchen door
waiting for my spiritual sun to set
Until she, death and her advocates, takes me
leaving my words published, burned, cast aside, and unread
I'll be looking out the pane of my window
wanting to save the world
knowing she's out there
pushing my dreams aside
While I,
the unsettled soul within the sun
craft ways to lift the poet till my kingdom come
using time, each breath, to get there

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