deepundergroundpoetry.com
Moonlight sonata by beethoven to be played while readying
A moment’s monologue
It’s a moment. Proceeding after your composition suffers decomposition. No well placed smiles. The cracks are shown. It can show a million different ways. You fall to your knees. You scream. You stay silent but lock yourself away. And someone, one person closes their arms around you and waits.
It’s that moment. The years spent alone in a crowd. Looking at a world aside from you. Looking at the earth, all the buildings, all the monuments with nobody there. All that you say is an echo through empty streets. It’s quite beautiful actually. If a moment when someone is there to hug you when you break down is so beautiful, then the moments when nobody is there has equal but opposite beauty. They close their arms around you and you cry, and in that moment, even for a second, even for less than a second, there are two people, on their knees holding each other in a lonely world.
It’s only that moment. That you feel like you see others feel. That emotion you see taken for granted in the mirror. Where all the people are and you’re not. The other side of the coin. The happiness. That deafening sound living in a silent world, of a comforting silence.
It’s the moments before that gave this moment a beauty that no poet or master of words can justify. That gut turning emotion as all around you falls asunder. Those moments. Where friends fail to understand and family cannot be the help at hand. The moments before are the moments you watch it all burn. This also has a beauty to it. Before I am judged listen to this. There is beauty in creation. Childbirth. A sculpture finishing a piece more lifelike than he. A painter standing back and being utterly speechless at his piece, hoping words don’t come in their vain attempt to do this act of creation justice. There is beauty in creation. There is an equal and opposite beauty in destruction. We cannot see it for we are they who are destroyed. Call me crazy. But that’s a condition. This is a sickness.
My moment lasted eight years. I do not believe in God and the devil but that moment everything burned lasted eight years. A vision of hell that didn’t take eight years to paint, but eight years to look at. That was beautiful. It was painful in ways I cannot describe, it was dangerous and in its own way, it was a stunning and awe striking sight I will never see again.
I like to say I have my own reasons behind this, but sometimes I say, how often do you see a shooting star. Call me insane. But that’s a condition. This is a sickness.
Within this moment you feel. Those arms, that other body, has crawled into this lonely world only to hold you. This person’s sole purpose in one moment is to hold you. No evil can penetrate this dome of two people. Protection. Love. With words that are never said
“Everything’s going to be alright”.
It’s a moment. Proceeding after your composition suffers decomposition. No well placed smiles. The cracks are shown. It can show a million different ways. You fall to your knees. You scream. You stay silent but lock yourself away. And someone, one person closes their arms around you and waits.
It’s that moment. The years spent alone in a crowd. Looking at a world aside from you. Looking at the earth, all the buildings, all the monuments with nobody there. All that you say is an echo through empty streets. It’s quite beautiful actually. If a moment when someone is there to hug you when you break down is so beautiful, then the moments when nobody is there has equal but opposite beauty. They close their arms around you and you cry, and in that moment, even for a second, even for less than a second, there are two people, on their knees holding each other in a lonely world.
It’s only that moment. That you feel like you see others feel. That emotion you see taken for granted in the mirror. Where all the people are and you’re not. The other side of the coin. The happiness. That deafening sound living in a silent world, of a comforting silence.
It’s the moments before that gave this moment a beauty that no poet or master of words can justify. That gut turning emotion as all around you falls asunder. Those moments. Where friends fail to understand and family cannot be the help at hand. The moments before are the moments you watch it all burn. This also has a beauty to it. Before I am judged listen to this. There is beauty in creation. Childbirth. A sculpture finishing a piece more lifelike than he. A painter standing back and being utterly speechless at his piece, hoping words don’t come in their vain attempt to do this act of creation justice. There is beauty in creation. There is an equal and opposite beauty in destruction. We cannot see it for we are they who are destroyed. Call me crazy. But that’s a condition. This is a sickness.
My moment lasted eight years. I do not believe in God and the devil but that moment everything burned lasted eight years. A vision of hell that didn’t take eight years to paint, but eight years to look at. That was beautiful. It was painful in ways I cannot describe, it was dangerous and in its own way, it was a stunning and awe striking sight I will never see again.
I like to say I have my own reasons behind this, but sometimes I say, how often do you see a shooting star. Call me insane. But that’s a condition. This is a sickness.
Within this moment you feel. Those arms, that other body, has crawled into this lonely world only to hold you. This person’s sole purpose in one moment is to hold you. No evil can penetrate this dome of two people. Protection. Love. With words that are never said
“Everything’s going to be alright”.
Published 21st Oct 2011
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2nd May 2012 3:23pm
This wants to make me cry. because in the last 10 years i had to be a mom to my 3 lil bros. i have cried and had those arms around me. and when they was there i knew everthing would be ok.
29th Dec 2012 3:46am
I'm glad you liked it, I'm even more happy at the fact that you had those arms around you
