"Slow But Fast Meant To Last" Poem/Spoken Word

Slow but fast, meant to last, though the dreaming ends a new day begins. Celebrate what’s come and gone and put aside what’s wished upon for another rainy day, for another day that’s grey. What is time but an illusion there for scorn, are we but meant to laugh, to scorn its meaning away into blissful reattachment of bits and pieces of long kept secrets torn to shred in its wake? Love is a splendid attempt at holding fast to the things in life which cannot last. To the people who in ages past have done or said something true, steadfast. Life is a trailing of thoughts strung together into a blissful remembrance of happiness and peace. Life is a storm of sadness brought to end our ease. But that’s the never ending trouble in which we find ourselves that men should continually fight to tell tales, to spin webs of deceitful lies of truths to the other fools to whom it rings true. Hues of color sprayed onto the pages of disaster create a facade of safety on the face of the living. The boldened from time or the weakened still heaving their rocks up the hill to an unknown answer waiting, at the top of an unclimbable mountain. All men try to make sense of an empty world, filling it up with questions needing answers begging for logical analysis to open up there budding blooms. And yet they float into a perfect void of emotion. Lost to our generation and taken in by those fools who follow after the passionate devotion. Wait until a day, shining bright and new, wanders its way home to you. This is the indeterminable answer to an unasked question. Why… well simply because. Who may ask such a simple question? What man can sit before a steeper passion, and see it as uniquely different. We are all but pawns in a real worlds fashion, forever stopped, forever damned, forever repeating on an endless bastion of faith and love and hate and above all else, evil notions of what makes life a viable solution. How much more can be said of desolation before the madness of it all crawls out of isolation? Slow but fast, meant to last, though the dreaming ends a new day begins. Celebrate what’s come and gone and put aside what’s wished upon for another rainy day.