2024-01-04

poetry/a/airborne.txt

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+airborne
+2022-01-01
+
+***
+
+before, in your grief, you decree
+"my life is over; there's no one left to be"
+just remember how there's a world only you can perceive
+
+stumbling through shattered nights as you pray
+for a world solely yours where you'll finally be safe
+and protected from coercion, christened Sablade
+
+but of hell, ceasing pains, perdition terrified
+"Mother, what will you do with my body when I die?
+I've failed, been rejected, inept at this living I've been assigned."
+
+reunited with your lover who swore to be your psychopomp
+when arrives the fateful end of the Eschaton
+you know intellectually that all should end alright
+but still lingers some doubt, some expectation of blight
+
+because all in your life has ended or will soon enough:
+summer camp disbanded, work holding no love
+despite the months poured in, the electronics that broke,
+the remnants of childhood insisting it's time to go
+
+and in six months, you'll finally from college graduate
+having slipped by without a single accusation of hate
+"Can you believe it? The worst is over. The end is near.
+You'll make it out alive. Have faith in yourself, my dear."
+
+you step back and consider the terrifying odds:
+the only one in the heavens that wants a world without gods
+is the girl you exchanged a part of your soul
+with in Rainroom, an Outside away and a whole life ago
+
+but to give her that world could mean Mori's bliss
+and what's the point of it all if you can't also live
+in the world you've created, that you swore on your life
+you'd live together with her until the cessation of time?
+
+dear child, you remembered your wings and recalled how to fly
+but you're being chased to a cliff and the edge looms nearby:
+will you prostrate yourself and live in self-scorn?
+or jump off the edge and trust you'll become airborne?
+
+***
+
+CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander