Sonnettics

I sat and watched the fucking world explode
Ironic that I almost nearly died
I sat and watched the universe erode
Perception sat in front of me and cried

The sadness of mortality is this
Dichotomy lives on in simple time
It starts and ends with something like a kiss
With something common, something most sublime

Is there a god in heaven when we die
A god that lets the fucking world explode
Is there a kiss that isn’t just goodbye
Is life a simple dirty, dusty road

I guess it doesn’t matter what we feel
Reality is simply fucking real.

Memento mori filled with finite grains
Reminds us that the sands of time fall fast
'Til not a single spec of time remains
And ev'ry future soon becomes the past

The present symbols of our pending death
Present our eyes with what our eyes will see
And by the life we feel within our breath
We also feel the coming autopsy

Memento mori's volta is the sin
Of all creation, knowing Thou Art God
And knowing thus, I seek to enter in
To places where the words I write are flawed

The Word is God in Heaven or in Hell
The last grain falls; the tolling of the Bell.

The Abraham in everyone contends
With faith that brings us each the word of god
The word becomes a song which never ends
A harmony, unknown, unsung, unflawed

Dichotomy discovered thus is hid
In everything we elevate by prayer
It’s never done the things we thought it did
But thoughts are often hidden everywhere

We sense that time has passed when god is gone
But no one knows the place our god might go
If god withdraws, then everything’s withdrawn
And thus we speak the words we think we know

The faith of every Abraham is real
Dichotomy enhances what we feel.

As soft as thoughts of cotton in a cloud
She blesses words that fill the weathered air
With colors where such rainbows are allowed
And now I know just why she lingers there

As warm as life itself when passions rise
Beyond the metaphors of simple verse
She knows that trust may soon eclipse the skies
And stars might flare and fade as we rehearse

Rehearsal is a duty one might find
If duty were the purpose of her art
And we shall see, although we once were blind
And I shall clasp her gently to my heart

The strength of her is more than sweetened time
And she will be my final couplet’s rhyme.

When neural pathways stream from point to point
Their stream creates the power of a mill
And when they come to scars, such scars anoint
The pathway as it tumbles down the hill

The hill is just a metaphoric mount
Dismounted, I survived to think more thought
The pathways I create will surely count
As if they stood for something cheap I bought

Did I buy life? I know I paid a bill
A bill I was presented at the door
A door that opens outward on this mill
And once again I learned what cash is for

Again I hear the wisdom flood my brain
It flows in neural pathways, mostly sane.

The piper has been paid; the rats are gone
But rats are smart and hungry; they’ll be back
We know the night is followed by the dawn
But every brilliant day will fade to black

The cycles of the universe reveal
That opposites do more than just attract
The universe is like a turning wheel
The folks of Hamelin learned this simple fact

Both rats and children come and go in time
It seems as if it's fated thus to be
Perhaps there is a moral, most sublime
Perhaps the universe will set them free

The universe continues to go round
In quiet cycles piped without a sound.

At times I see my Sita in the sky
At times I see my Sita in my dreams
I know she’s far away, but I must try
To bring her back, no matter how it seems

My time without my Sita is like Hell
Naraka would be better than this life
But more than just a story made to tell
The world is always better with my wife

I’m every man who’s lost a precious gift
But gold and diamonds never will compare
To my dear Sita, who I want to lift
And show the world that she is good and fair

I need my Sita with me, by my side
My precious Sita, oh, my precious bride.