Too Many Questions?

In my existence am I invisible or just invincible,
When I continue to love in visible love?
But all my words sound the same,
When rhyme and rain again,
How can my words play invisible?
For what possibly can I say,
That’s not been said before;
For you  to hear the creaks,
Of thought open an un-ancient door?
Maybe it’s better not to inquisition,
Than to inquire about it all.
For what else but nothing,
In this hollow and empty life?
What Life? This Life, or That Life?

But they tell me ‘Don’t be so judgemental,’
Yet say, ‘It’s fundamental,’
Then think ‘She’s sentimental,’
When I know that I’m just mad,
Because everything I’ve ever had,
Has been nothing at all,
So now we’ve gone full circle,
I must question it once more….
For what else is there
In this world for me,
But ashes and dust?
My corrosive bones
Betray with time,
First heal then rust.
Then who’s bones stand here,
Who’s feet tread the ground?
To whom do I bear witness,
When all I hear is the sound,
A sweet call to surrender,
A welcome to forever slumber,
& this earthen bed,
Where one day above,
As our feet do tread…
Night will pass bellow,
As we’ll lay our lifeless head.
Oh I wonder,
Who can lie beyond this earth,
When my body will lie dead?

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