From the persona: Cello
| Silently,
in my corner of the world, I sit to contemplate my
existence. What of it; makes me significant, what of it; makes me worthy of breath? I am just a man with dreams, hopes and desires; what of me matters? Can a simple man like me; spell the insights, not seen by intellectuals? As a youngster, I was a boisterous boy; seeking only my own will and joy. I fooled around and played games with others to my delight. With these poor souls, I messed; brought many tears, too many eyes. Now, regret I taste as I harvest from the sour field I left some seed in. What of me; entitles me to walk this globe still, to love and share it with others? Have the goodwill since my youthful sins, pardoned me of blame? My heart aches now; is it payback, is it penalty enough for those I have hurt? What of it; what will allow me to see the sunset of a bright new day? I am standing in this courtyard; my bare back for the whip. This is not physical, but I can fell the whips’-end tear at my heart. Do not pity me, please; I must face the consequences of my actions. I must be held accountable; so, I will learn to live a responsible life. You know, shortly after showers and winds; the sun shines bright again. What of me; will know the turn of a season, make darkness turn to light? As I pout in my misery; I still hope and dream of renewed life, breath! What of me... deserves to face the birth of a sun in the morn of tomorrow? The day draws to an end; shining bright on the youthful sins of yesterday. Will the obscurity, off its light, permit my iniquities to fadeout with moonlight? Velvet black skies above my head; I beckon you, draw me into your depth. Embrace me in the vastness of your emptiness; where I can finally… find peace. |
| By : Thys Groesbeek |