Counterbalance

I see the brilliance in a passionate life
I see my future ahead of me
I must continue living
To reach the final destination

I hear the voices of logic and reason
I hear the noises of my cells withering
I must die again and again
To prove that life is infinite

An incomplete paradox

I saw the trails of a crimson tide
I saw the amorphous clouds in the sky
Should I keep flying,
Or should I descend?

I heard the thunders underneath my skin
I heard the painful songs of my brain
Can I sign a full stop,
Or can I win the fight?

A subconscious dichotomy

I will see the nightmares of a child
I will see the wings of time and space
Maybe they are not my own thoughts
Maybe I am just one step away

I will hear the melody of the ending
I will hear the isolated laughter from my psyche
Only if I was closer to the edge
Only if I wasn’t denied reality

A perfect counterbalance
The existential quadrant of a nihilist

Night-time At Noon

I am treating the incurable
Something I must avoid
Like darkness at noon
A perfect paradox of resolve

Whose thoughts are they?

I am preserving the perishable
Something almost humanoid
Like night-time at noon
An enchanting enigma to solve

My thoughts, they are right here….

I am creating the intangible
Something they call paranoid
Like darkness at noon
Making the right choice to brave

Is nothingness an existence?

I am delaying the inevitable
Something inside this void
Like night-time at noon
Waiting for my consciousness to dissolve

Say good night, say goodbye….

Switch

I have a little switch in my brain
Carefully balancing on the central line
Asking whether I am fine
But I have thoughts that I cannot restrain.

I have a little switch in my mind
Silently waiting to embrace the decision
Looking for a perfect solution
But I still have answers that I must find.

I have a little switch in my wrist
Secretly dreaming of freedom from the slaves
Listening to the dichotomous waves
But I have one last thing on my to-do list.

I have a little switch in my hand
Constantly needing the final satisfaction
Aching for peace and contradiction
But I still have faith in my promised land.

The Experiment

I am conducting an experiment
A life-long experiment
I am both the subject and the researcher
Both the participant and the observer.

The opponent is Nature-
I am forcing her to answer
What will it bring to my existence
When my experiment completes?

Who is biased?
The universal outcome
My consciousness awaits the answer
My consciousness will be destroyed.

I cannot withdraw from the experiment
The last challenge I must face
There is no sorrow or despair
Just a curious mind.

Life is unsustainable-
Whereas death is permanent.
Everyone wants eternity
But at what price?

Who is scared?
The ultimate paradox
My consciousness accepts the invitation
My consciousness will never return.

This is permanent-
Who will replicate the experiment?

Uphill

‘If life is an uphill slog, imagine the view from the top.’
But what if your sole purpose of climbing the hill
Is simply to fall again
From the heights and the beautiful scenery?

I am standing at the top.
What is my purpose?
Every glance I cast from high above
Is a hint for a prompt decision.

To stand, to fall, in both cases
Courage is essential;
It is simply an imbalance between the two
That makes me freeze at the thought of choosing.

In the end, if there is an end-
Who makes the final decision?
Will it be the shadow behind me
Or my reflection in the sky?

Welcome to the world, the mother says
When you are born, you are at the bottom of the hill
So the top is destined to be the end
There is no coming back, no repetition.

Everyone is reaching for the end.
The view from the top is such a sweet temptation
But nobody will be able to enjoy it
Because sooner or later it will end

Or can we end the journey ourselves?

Cotton Flowers

‘I want red flowers to grow
On a piece of white cotton.’

But I am the gardener.
Slowly, gently, I see red petals fall
As the flowers germinate.

‘I want a white piece of cotton.
Only the purest of whites.’

But I am the seamstress.
Bit by bit, I see white bubbles form
As I tear open the cotton flowers.

‘You must keep planting red flowers.
Only the deepest of reds.’

But I am the florist.
Again and again, I see crimson scents arise
As the colours proliferate.

‘You must leave the white intact
Amongst all the reds.’

But I am the artist.
Softly, peacefully, I see white clouds dissolve
As I become intoxicated with the pollen.

Because this is the only alternative-
A cheap alternative-
To destroying the entire garden.

Disputation

(Author Unknown)

I remember times when the inner disputation
Was quite fierce (to pursue the game, or sign
A full stop to pain). The call was mine-
Or so it seemed. Each voice a singular temptation:

The beguiling cries of longed-for rest,
The easeful quiet, the total peace
- what a boon!- finally to cease
The struggle; to know that nothingness is best.

But then, from the barely bubbling sieve
Of my active self, a tired but urgent call
To return to habit and duty; reluctantly to fall
Again into pain and heartache- and to live.

Oh soul! thou then stood on an isthmus break
And heard, in separate ears, Aegean and Ionian wave.
Which sea? To drown, or combers once again to brave?
The vital choice was solely mine to make.

Scarlet

Scarlet is the colour of the illness
Scarlet is the colour of the cure
A booklet and a certificate
730 days that I must endure

Will everything go as planned?
Scarlet tears and scarlet smiles
An existence and its proof
Every time I travel across the miles

Scarlet is the colour of my skin
Scarlet is the colour of my mind
Uncertainties and anxieties
A hopeful future I must find

Will I regret what I have done?
Scarlet dreams and scarlet eyes
A special delivery and its recipient
Every time I tell unintended lies

Scarlet is the colour of the day
Scarlet is the colour of the night
Delusions and predictions
Pernicious urges that I must fight

Will I leave everything behind?
Scarlet identity and scarlet self
A new scar and its aftermath
Every time I promise that I will live…

The Act

It is an act for the weak
An act that depends on ultimate strength

It is an act for the cowardly
An act that requires extreme courage

It is act for the escapist
An act that faces the denial of self-preservation

But everybody has contemplated it.

It is an act for the uneasy
An act that offers eternal peace

It is an act for the sorrowful
An act that leads to unfathomable happiness

It is an act for the sufferer
An act that cures the incurable

But everybody is fearful of it.

It is an act for the selfish
An act that stems from distorted altruism

It is an act for the self-contradictory
An act that battles with the life instinct

It is an act for the thoughtful
An act that terminates every thought and action

But everybody has the potential to achieve it.

Morning Calls

It disappoints me
When sunshine calls each morning
From the broken window.

Am I pursuing towards an end
Or a full stop?

You stop when there are possibilities
You reach the end
When there is nowhere else to go.

When will I
Drown in my own blood?

This question remains unanswered
I still long for the future
But my mind keeps playing new tricks.

Sleeping without dreaming
Is this dying?

Morning calls
Like an unwelcomed guest
Intruding upon a helpless host.

What is it like
When the end eventually comes?

Those who know the answers never come back.