A Letter For The Lost

I can feel it clawing inside,
viscous emotions, clogging my veins, lining the porous walls.
Pushing with more power, no coal left to refuel.
Unstoppable rivers rushing into newly risen cliffs.

Longing for the calamity of the untamed wild,
Vicious vines whispering, everything will be okay.
Holding close to heart, memories of dusk and dawn.
Rays of hope and despair, shining bright.
No longer rise or set, do stars. They fuel the day as night.

Pulling the mountains high into the golden skies and carving valleys deep,
No sound may ever reach ground.

Dreaming in the primal vortex, of sunlight not made of a million colors,
Of light unbroken and clear.
Of streams of blood not clotted.

High above, dancing, high on euphoria, falling.
Waving hello, to death as I pass them by. Time and time.
Again.
In the abyss, sensing, high on sorrow, flying.

Mania and depression, woven into looms drawing jealous eyes.
Gods, desperately longing and deathly afraid.

Heart-rent, vertigo all consuming, lines metamorphosed to rogue waves.

Not made for flying, wings of sun bleached bone.
Feathers made of pleasant agony, of pain inducing happiness.
Shimmering in twilight cast. Invigorating mist clouding senses.

Cetaceans cast onto the canvas, everlasting, swimming in a sea of gleaming stars.
Thoughts riding on ephemeral backs.
Mountains dismantled, engulfed by water heavy as a universe.
Mind resting, along sandy beaches in the black abyss.

Propelled by darkness intertwined with light, a thousand light years passing by.
Cosmoi, born and died, blink one more time.

Can the shattered pieces survive,
Torn between gravity of the sun and moon?