The Work of Life

The golden blue of just about sunset
The soul sings a single note, minor key, in memory of something more
Or something less
A life yearning to be lived and unsure of how to do it
Sadness caressing a grey wisp of fog that curls in upon itself
In the beauty of the last captured glimpse of twilight
That time before full cold and shadow
Sunlight clear crisp on the skin of the face
That draws close to the beautiful sorrow
Feeling strong and tall and so empty
Melancholy heartbeat against words to be spoken
On lips that sing that haunting note
On the blood that strums against a tried, desperate hand
Wanting to say, more
Wanting to feel, more
Wanting to be, more
Soul struggles nicely against straightjacket time
The touch of only touching the self
Yearning to crawl into the skin of another
To find out if the loneliness is real
If the wretchedness is as pure and undefined
As one shares with one alone
Translucent body, crack open wide
The angels and demons of passion gush forth
And fill the world with the ghostly love
That true lovers of life do feel
Share with me, the final sob
Of existence realized at the moment of deed
Actualized infinity
In the linear progression of human days
Sorting, shifting, cursing, pushing
Crisis before the storm
The darkness before the Light
Goes out

–TDD