by Jacob Berg
Today I witnessed the death of passion
And the rebirth of forgotten, buried times.
Today, a section of life has ended, moved on,
For nothing good ever lasts.
Abandon your hopes,
Cast out your dreams;
A joyless world has no color,
For everything is suddenly broadcasted to the mind
In piercing black and white.
Serenity becomes foreign,
An alien word and emotion to all,
Leaving a cold, empty void where roses once bloomed.
Shades overcome hallowed ground
And vines greedily overtake beauty.
A silent scream drones in the back of my mind
It is my Heart, calling for my attention;
It has fallen from grace,
No longer in a feeling of warmth,
But drowning in the fire of empathy and loathing.
Does this matter in the least,
The worries and sorrows of such a soul?
I, for one, would think not;
Such problems are not the troubles of others.
Silence is a virtue I must behold and adore.
So it is written, these words of mine,
Together combined as a testament to such days of lament.
I know not what lies in the clearing of this path,
If it be for good or for ill,
But I will wait for my serenity, my love, to return