Empty Beauty

Fortuitous words play like music

despite the ambience, the chatter,

your word fill me with bliss and grief

for nothing progresses no processes

in my fickle mind.

I am a slave to your lack of wisdom,

your divine echo that reverberates within me,

regardless of intent, you are ever-present,

ignorant to your external persuasion.

Perhaps this is the way to be?

Perhaps you are the wisest empty skull,

for they say ignorance is bliss thus

a smart man can never be happy.

Innocent to your own portrayal

you harbour no resentment.

Dumbfounded by the thirst for more,

you regress further from harrowing reality.

We face the storm in order for you to

alleviate our suffering.

We oscillate to a steady rhythm

determined by your heartbeat.

The cracks within show in us all,

a global punishment on behalf of the lesser men.

We are, can and will be better.

Steady uphill, regardless of the climb.

And yet you remain impartial,

a practical participant in the pageant of life,

and across the room there is me alone,

in awe of you despite it all.

Preference begone for you stand in front of me,

the lesser man now having met you.

I am what I envied and resented

entirely due to your demand of obsession,

I am your possession now,

and despite my rotting soul I still hold faith

in empty promises for love is blind

and apparently, so am I.