u/cj1160

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I lie in a field of lilies, the scent tickling my nose
The world lie in still motion as I ponder life
Staring at the vast empty blue sky 
My mind wilts like a rotten rose 

Is there a meaning behind life? 
Or am I just a speck on a speck of dust
Engulfed in the vast sea of cosmic indifference,
I feel my soul begin to combust 

How could it be such  
That all this beauty arise from nothing 
Autumn leaves, the sea’s beauty — mere chance? 
I shiver as I feel the wind touch 

My mind feels the weight 
Caught in the grasp of existential crisis
Looking to the night sky again, I see the stars 
Dancing in their isolated glory, so great 

Is the beauty all a farce ? 
Or is the meaning simply too hard to parse

 
Every day he got out of bed,
breakfast, coffee, then dressed.
Always a little jelly on bread,
his suit always freshly pressed.

He took the same route every day,
the same podcast on the stereo,
brief glimpses of the bay,
just a familiar status quo.

He rarely felt joy,
only the comfort of contentment.
It had stayed with him since a boy.
Isn’t that quaint?

He built himself a prison,
just to avoid pain.
His heart had seldom risen
beyond its quiet chains.

Life is more than just routine,
more than motion without meaning.
Yet everything he’d ever seen
left him steady, never leaning.

He had what others chase in vain,
and still, he felt the lack.
A life untouched by outward strain,
yet nothing calling him back.

Last week I died,
Or maybe the old me did.
I think it was Wednesday—I think I cried,
As new life broke where old life hid.

Change and growth… who am I now?
I still can’t seem to understand.
The questions linger, they don’t bow,
Like drifting footprints in the sand.

Venom coursed beneath my skin,
A poison whispering through my veins.
Not enough to pull me in,
Just enough to magnify the pains.

Disorder births a hidden grace,
Or leaves a soul to slowly drown.
Some are lost without a trace;
Some rebuild what once burned down.

I fed the wolf I’d left unfed.
I walked the lonely forest trails.
I challenged every fear I bred,
Though doubt still filled the midnight gales.

Among the embers I stood still,
Watching smoke give way to light.
The fire bent—but not my will.
I chose to live. I chose to fight.

Last week I died
Or maybe the old me did.
If that’s the price of what’s inside,
I’ll never mourn what I outlived.