soliloquy of a moment

the quicksand of destruction beckons
a lonely solemn tune hymned by the last butterflies
while violins scream from shadows
from my hand grows an innocent, child-like flower
it shies away from God revealed
petal's tear off themselves from their home
fall to the ground and wish they weren't born
my hand closes to hide the remains

scared little child with diamond eyes
a ray of hope shines through
as the movement nears the end
the last notes are being played
and light abruptly reveals its fallacy
for us to witness
the eyes lose purpose; same as with the rest
knowledge remains
an implicit understanding and an acceptance
denial is of the past
the soul displays its burden
it weeps for the story it contained within
a silent passenger for so long
haunted sounds it begged to plead
a solemn oath became its destiny

the sun takes its last decent
yet to the few aware it has no decent
the end of is as the beginning of
time
is as the moment contained in a ballerina's last step
no rise, no decent
it dances a separate path
a separate melody of divine rhymes
which we ourselves journey around
eventually returning to our home
wishing we weren't born
the moment before we tear ourselves off
and have our remains cared for
in the gentlest of hands

for we remain forever
in the gentlest of hands