nomanirvana

Wander the smooth surface of a foreign land
With the beauty of eyes and flesh in hand
So silken and sweet like lavish cotton
Dreams of flowing beauty,
Lost and gone but cannot be forgotten
For that is a luxury for those who have felt
The grass of your Eden,
Not for me, there is a disease I’ve been dealt
I have built a wall,
Towering and sheer around the land I hold dear
It blocks the way, I live underneath it all
The untangible wind, like the grapes that I seek
Carries the smell of the vineyard,
So unbearably weak
Such a small essence of an everpresent effulgence
So delicate and meek, a consuming insurgance
As my soul is caught in the clasp of affection
Perpetually questioning the state of my deservance
I focus my existence on this droplet of Eden
To form a temple, hope my enemy is a heathen
Then a gust, to shatter my place to its base
A wind from the East, not the radiant West
That reflects in its contours the light of your face
The progressive and wrenching anger and hate,
Amassing on the horizon, so incredibly near
That blast of air that formed from a spark of fear
Struck without precedence, as I was ascending my structure
Glistening in the light from your land of luxor
I stood atop my temple in awe,
As it crumbled, and I felt myself begin to fall
Down in a whole of ailment as I pondered
Memories of a land where I could have wandered.