A Family of Melting Snowmen

Everything is temporary.
Everything we spend time carefully building falls apart.
With time.
Our homes, our beds, ourselves.
There is no permanence.
Our idea of permanence is temporary.
It changes with age and understanding.
The realization is slowly revealed to us.
We are a family of melting snowmen.
Each part of us that was carefully crafted drips away.
Without regard or remorse.
We shrink in the sunlight, clinging to a cold core.
Wishing for winter nights to feed our souls.
Even if we sculpt a new exterior, we're gone.
Our essence absorbed into the ground.
Where we stay forever.
Or whatever forever means to us right now.

dm.

Sense

Sunlight is subdued today
Cloud cover plays through speakers
Echoes in a large expanse
Familiarity lingers vaguely in the air
Numbers count down to when it’s no longer okay
To be here or anywhere near
Aisles to exits that shine for attention
Demanding they be taken.
Seriously.
Exhaustion weighs heavy on eyes that never want to close
Vision lies with perception; without sight
Feeling is beyond what is tactile
It is not beyond attempting to touch
Singing words aloud to deaf ears
Words carry only the value we assign
Far from where they once resided
Finding new homes among strangers
How could anything convey an idea
Tastes change and speak in different tongues
Ideas pervade, even with a simple gleaning
Books hold words but seldom meaning.

.dm

The Tree

Everything is ugly sometimes.
The tree that grows from a seed stands dying in winter.
Rotted fruit lies beneath.
Once sweet and alive, it caves in on itself, shriveling in the cold.
The tree provides no shade for there is no sun.
Only gray.
Diffused light that covers life in a blanket of misery.
Quiet seems only too apropos.
Artificial death calls to end this; fittingly.

dm.

Walking forward

I closed my eyes on the brightness
I opened them up to the quiet blue evening
Feeling the seasons change can be exalting
Time is fleeting and that lesson is frequently taught
Years are teachers and minutes are messengers
Traveling a path most taken
Moving on doesn't always mean letting go
It just means you have to extend another hand.