Blackened cloak of the early dawning night
Fate’s hand upon thy life eclipsing the noon day sun unto night
What has come the moments gone by
Are they existing in this singular time
The clock stops where does the heart go.
If it not real than why must I cry and yearn to love
Am I not human above the animals,
Do I not ponder right and wrong and my conscience be real.
It is not for me to say there is no architect to thy soul
But rationally I cannot see there being none
Emotionally I say there is not;
Why the pain and suffrage of man why such evil,
Yet saying such is like blaming someone for my mistakes,
And to blame someone I see not being real is emotionally irrational.
As though it does not matter if I believe in such;
It does neither give nor shall it take from such a thing,
To be adamant in disbelief is maddening
For if you do not believe the soil will bare move on from there.
Yet I believe pain is nothing, my suffering is null;
A stoic I might be yet you either accept the pain
Or deny it exists, so there for thy God has made me stoic,
A reverence to life and pain through such things I find content bliss,
Through such things I find wisdom and peace
So when I shall sleep my finally rest there shall be nothing left
Just thy vacant body which once housed the soulful rest.