Becoming – -that ceaseless act of change –
That endless cycle of death and life;
Pointless yet purposeful in ruling our existence.
Stirring frenzied peaks of activity
It begets despair
As surely as gain portends loss.
Let dreamers beware
The realised dream pales quickly.
Lifeless, its attraction is broken
Its carcass, once the purpose of life,
Has no meaning.
Thus serving no purpose, the dream
Becomes another stick to beat the mind.
Stale then is the heart that battles in vain,
When the joy that comes from striving
Goes unrewarded again and again
And, weary now, the mind grows dark,
But never silent.
Beneath the shell, the haunting
As dead dreams ferment;
Forever tormented mind turns upon itself.
And then the dreamer knows,
Although they may but slowly realise it;
They have no fear of death.
If there lingers still amongst the pain of life,
Any claim upon existence
It is just a defiant spark of hope;
Faltering and weak
As the tired grasp of a child.
The spark, succumbing,
Extinguishes the consciousness
And so too the mind;
Which sinks forever into darkness
With no thought of striving
To trouble its ceaseless peace.
© Ian Bridge 2002