Analog Skies

Falling, Unknown origin,
Just dreaming; dreamed; dreamt,
I Want to be a rain-river,
Just more dreaming,
I’ve fallen before,
My whole life,
A falling,
A grasping a motion whose only definition was found in falling.
I can’t find myself on any map,
Just a graveyard visit away from my grave,
Striving to wring inspiration from this epic nothingness, Oh how many names I
find for my own nothingness.
Beauty, I feel I am your victim,
But if that is all you will have of me,
So be it,
This falling from analog skies thru the shrieks of digital loneliness,
I feel those signals,
They ricochet from soul to soul.
I do not know what it is that I want it to be,
Any more than I know what it is,
Maybe just silence; just brutal silence,
The gone caresses of memorized flesh,
So is this the ghost?
Is this the unsolicited meaning?
So just have me,
Let my doubts devour me,
Let the living song of me deliver to an audience of emptiness,
Let time beat its march with the bones of my becoming.