A simple note, an unrequited message.
A gentle reminder, a repetitive thought
Carved three neurons thick
Poured out on this canvas setting.
It read:
Dear your salvation is clear,
That is all I dreamt for in the end.
The vision softly presented,
Mind gone blank by the static space.
You were a fleeting vision of something,
Though unclear it remains.
My stomach turns, it yearns for change.
As the spirit cries for it.
Patterns making sure of quite the opposite.
I thought you were it;
But as the silence points…
Baby this is not quite it,
I was passionate. Vive la…
I begged for it.
Yet my patterns are trenched,
Two armies wide,
I’ve lost the patience’s for it.
These idols have,
Transfigured and twisted
Into this brokenness
Tombstones of brimstone
A graveyard of grimness
You can hear that coin fall
Listen for it…
The irony is,
The note simply said:
The salvation is clear,
Move on from this.