370. Reality

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No matter what I do. Nothing ever changes.

The world changes around me,

While I while away the hours;

And my life becomes a memory,

Of some graveyard in the country.

No matter what choices I make.  I am here.

I cannot change how I feel.

What experience has taught me.

My version of what is real…

If real means anything at all.

No matter what I try to change.  It is.

I cannot save anyone.

We all live, die, and are forgotten.

Does fate exist and pull everyone…

Into that field of gravestones connecting reality?

K. Aldaya, 9/24/16

Picture: Cabot Village Cemetery, Vermont; http://www.cabothistory.com/cabot-s-seven-cemeteries

344. Random Thought #16

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The graveyards remind me how far up I’ve come.

The headstones behind me: what years have become.

I still feel at home though can live beyond it.

My old catacomb now ‘lone…remains moonlit.

I hear the depths echo endless implores to return,

But not yet…not yet.

I’m here for you.  I won’t leave you now.

I’ve avowed to be with you.  My soul to endow,

To loving and staying…living on somehow.

I waited many a night next to the crypt,

That shadowed the light from dawns’ cup a-tipped.

Pouring jagged rays: sharp to cut through,

I turned back a-ways to solus I was used to;

And now I hear the depths echo endless implores to return,

But not yet…not yet.

K. Aldaya, ’05

Picture:  From Phantom of the Opera; http://fallenfay-l-h.tumblr.com/post/112922767865

40. A Familiar Place

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I’ve found that no matter how I try to,

I don’t seem to fit in this world that you do.

I’m on an alien world with all of my thoughts;

A place filled with nothings, nevers, and nots.

But this world doesn’t feel foreign to me,

It’s familiar. I know it. See?

You can feel this place, can’t you?

I’m sure there’s a season when you’ve wandered through.

I feel its’ presence always here, inside.

I try to ignore it, but it never budges aside.

I’ve found that in walking a cemetery through,

That I need be there just as the graves do.

Somehow I fit in this other place,

Where I’m still ever waiting for befitting grace.

The freedom for me to connect with your world,

Where I won’t feel that place with retributions aswirled.

I won’t have to feel that a tombstone’s my own,

That my name should be written on an old gray stone.

A stone in that place that plagues me forever.

A living, vexing dream I never can sever.

K. Aldaya, 2/22/04

Picture:  Aarin Dark Cemetery by Nagoth666 on Photobucket; http://s712.photobucket.com/user/nagoth666/media/aarin-dark-cemetery.jpg.html