Wasted time
From a mind
That’s wasted all of the time
Stoned to the bone and alone
Creating a throne
Full of lies
Full of eyes
That can’t see
Anything
Just to sit
Alone
And look over on a land
That didn’t grow
According to the plan
Did the land create the man
Or the man create the land?
Can we even separate the two . . .?
And whenever does anything go according to our little plans?
King of nothing
Is better then being
Nothing in the nothing,
Isn’t it?
Nothing in the nothing
Or
Something in the nothing
Or
Something in the infinite sea of something’s . . .
We all just want to be something
Some solid form
But we
Are more like
Water
Constantly changing forms
Constantly adapting
To our surroundings
Dreaming and scheming of being something solid
But always
Just
Flowing
King for a moment
And then
Back to nothing
Nothing for a moment
And then
Back to something
Something for a moment
And then
Transcended into
Everything
Everything for a day
And then
Back to nothing . . .
King for a moment
And then
Back to nothing
Nothing for a moment
And then
Back to something
Something for a moment
And then
Transcended into
Everything
Everything for a day
And then
Back to nothing . . .
-C.H.