Part I
Pacing back around, son can you come here? As old as I am now, I feel like I could never learn enough.
Pacing upon pacing…
“Father, why do you look so tired”?
Well you see, I’m an old man now and all I have is my memory, and when that goes who will I be?
Where are we now? Endless sea of cloud… Soft tender sound… Endless sea of cloud.
Nothing was worth the suffering, I wish I took a risk, I never thought life would be so short until I saw that final door close right behind…
Leaves they fall, they all remind me of you.
And the way… remind me.
Nothing was worth the suffering, I should’ve took a risk, I never thought life would be like this. Until you cried on me from clouds in the sky.
There’s no way, my son, you can live like me. I’m filled with regret and nothing’s going to stop me from killing everything I have and know, to release this sobriquet soul in shards and marks. Splinters fall and spark against the sunlight.
Part II
There’s an empty feeling in this vessel. Counselling my time while concealing the illusion of faith, juxtaposing fear, searching in memories to find a meaning before I lose feeling…
We will never feel this young again…
We will never lead this life again, one day soon, we all meet our end. The only question is when?
Why do we seek the unknown? Why do we question fate? The path unbroken, every excuse you cry…nothing matters when we die…nothing matters.
The sky unfolded every reason why.
I wanted to bring balance and wisdom as a boy, but why?
Nothing even matters when we die! Nothing ever matters.
Why do we seek the unknown? Why do we question fate? The knowledge we seek is a messy page of watered ink. Every excuse you used to hide from me, epiphany, deceiving me.
The future I see will be entropy, there was nothing here for me, for anyone. No purpose, nothing guiding me home.
Part III
Feeding on the guilt that I’ve built, I’m starving to the bone. Regretting decisions, I’ve envisioned while trying to atone for all the things I haven’t done, and not for what I had, but now I’m scared of what I’ve become. Do the choices I make force a ripple within?
Or do they just dilute my skin? All I have emerged from these prison walls, old age isn’t physical, it’s the loss of one’s worth and need to live.
Is life a straight line? Stiff backs marching towards our deaths. Or a dream that seems only to transcend as we struggle to take our last breath?
All that I have will rust. All that I love will turn to dust. All that is and ever was: A radio wave travelling through empty space.