Rebirth

2013-01-02 04:30 AM

Every day is like the last time you get to breathe fresh air before suffocating inside, silently.
Every day is like the setting of a sun that gave life to nightmares and bad breath.
But so is life, I suppose; we flow like winds of change waiting,
waiting, for another chance to grow.

So here we are, out in the cold.
Bored out of our minds with waiting;
with snow and explosives shattering the veil of silence,
for the first time since never,
can we sing to a life worth living, and joy.

All the while, the anxious beatings of my heart grow louder.
My chest feeling like shotgun shells and fireworks, and it's nearing midnight.
Nearing the dawn of a new year, again, we are,
waiting for a chance let the winds of change flow like Us in a poor metaphor for once.
But they seldom do.

And the moment is over.
364 days, 23 hours and 55 minutes left until that next chance.
That next chance to change anything ever over and all over the place again.
A new beginning, need we not, but yes indeed a chance to live.
But what is Life, but the dreary wait for abstract concepts?

I dread that I may live again, I wish it were not so;
the soft tones of your wind-chime, couldn't ever be played by my breath.
It would've been the end of the world as we know it,
like weekends are, but more dire.

All the while, a week could go by without me even really noticing it.
Ah, but such is the life of a former person;
the empty shell of a former identity taking up physical space.
It is all and yet nothing, but everything and all the same,
the hollow hearted, the weak and weary,
The Love and Life of a Dismal Everything

Forgetting the present; chasing the rebirth.