Tumultuous Minds
My thoughts lingered on the only subject I could find
Time, truly taking grasp of my thoughts,
Without any sense of reason or Mind
Meaningless was the word, until I dreamt of my grandfather
Was it his time? Or mine?
Mine to realize how simple my-
My life-Time, had been?
Or his? To see through my callus malice,
My lack of perception towards his gleeful acceptance.
It was the inevitable, the unquestionable.
Pervading past thought or Time.
Truly just a waste of mental space,
Forced to float through fleeting moments before our final goodbye.
But why?
Why was it this time?
To him, it didn’t matter. The time never really mattered.
I still question why. What is there to understand?
The madness of these recurring dreams, their dread denoting struggle. Yet I.
-It can’t stop, It won’t. But I carry on.