People cling to life in their futile needs,

They cling so hard they most think they can grow seeds,

They fear death, as I fear the demise of color,

 

I welcome death, my sweet passing; I never did wish to be everlasting,

I wish a good life, I wish for passion, once I have it,

I will have no more asking.

 

Everything is mine to accomplish.

Everything is at an arms length!

 

I see the world with open eyes,

I explore the back of my brain,

The source of a different life,

That which is not living, that which was never dead

It was always here, right in my head!

 

It is knowledge and time,

It is different to that which you could call mine.

But apart from me, it was never heard or said

There is no trace to its existence,

It fades; it is kept in the distance

 It is a peace being played in a piano

The wind that comes and goes,

And only once do I hear that song.

 

It is the creation of the created.

It is the riches behind them contemplated.

 

Why is it you do not hear?

The words in between each beat,

The words in between the song,

The images so mighty and strong

They could bury your feet!

 

Why is it you do not hear, this sweet lively song?

Why is it people wish to persist through time?

Why is it they are they afraid?

If they fear death and complain of life,

They are not satisfied, they simply alive.

 

If no one were to die, no one would ever live,

If no one were to cry, no one would ever sigh.

 

There is no brilliance in you, or me

We are not like that meant to be.

We will be food for worms some time soon

So don’t wait in vain till after noon.

Your time is now, and quickly will be gone,

Do what you can, to live and hear your own song.

It is there, look everywhere!