2 poems, 2 views

Theft of existence

When there is nothing left within your view,

nothing left for eyes to give you,

the view is empty with nothing left,

almost like an existences theft.

When there is no sound to be heard,

no noises, no tunes, no words,

what is heard is a silencing tone,

vibrating against the smallest bone.

There is no feel to the touch,

no sensation for your clutch.

Covered by a touchless feel,

your existence will be unreal.

Fading life

Fading is the light in front of me,

it was always given for free,

dimming the view, I am to see,

of where my essence is to be.

Because the light fades,

as life itself degrades,

feeling it slowly cascade,

falling damaged and frayed,

I question the freedom of light,

the existence of the night,

the darkness forming in my sight,

its emptiness shining so bright.

In front, my darkening view,

standing wondering what is true,

asking myself what to do,

forgetting the light, I knew.

Fading is the light in front of me,

something I could not foresee,

dimming the views my eyes see,

it’s setting my essence free.