Category: Prose

Prose: Tomorrow

Some say we are just a culmination of our past
That the world is a play and we are its cast.

Such narrow-minded thinking simply restricts
And only serves to shape us as convicts.

As if history has already decided for us
What we will be from thus.

But we are so much more
And not just a product of our lore.

We are fighters, the world our ring
So just remember one thing.

Don’t let history dictate you
Because tomorrow is history too.

Prose: Towers

There’s this strange mystery in my town
One that’s existed generations before me
Once a month, a clock tower can be heard
It’s distant, but it calls to us, almost pleadingly

GONG

Records show that it used to be deafening
Sometimes causing entire buildings to tremble
But it’s started to recede and become quiet
As if it’s losing its cry

GONG

Some even argue on how loud it is
As if some can hear it perfectly
And others, not at all
Why? That is all I ask.

GONG

No one knows why the bell goes
No one knows what it signifies
And the townsfolk seem indifferent
As if they’ve simply grown accustomed

GONG

And, someday, we’ll likely lose it entirely
What’ll happen if it does? No one knows
Its unknown message to us
Turns to dust washed up in a desert

GONG

Has it tried to warn us of something?
Has it been telling us to follow it?
Has it fed up with our indifference?
Why? That is all I ask.

GONG

I feel our time is soon up
I’ve wandered in search before
But to no avail. There are no signs
Which show me the answers I seek

GONG

I fear, every time, this may be the last
We always go through this, and to what end?
This gamble we roll every month like this
What will we lose once that chime hits us?

a

It’s silent now, will this be it?
Now is the time for waiting,
For what, I don’t know
Why? That is all I ask.

Prose: Dreams

The universe is magnificent
It encompasses everything we see

Some question if other universes exist
I say we already know

We each inhabit our very own
Ones whose only limits are our own

Ones that are always changing
Just like the one we see around us

But they sometimes remain the same
And begin forming patterns

My own little universe
Unique to me, foreign to others

Sometimes appearing as a window
A window into the mind

Unveiling hopes and desires, unconscious
Or as a chance to face fears

It might not be as grand as the one we share
But this is my universe

One I visit every night
As I close my eyes