Late night poetic surge - It's all a process of thought. A Poetic Practice

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fleeting
time
moments
existence
it's all
existence
fleeting
it's all
a river of moments
rolled into something
everything'
and nothing
all intertwined
love
life
memories
then it becomes
a cycle
all over the place
with nothing'
but everything
no time to hold
no time to reflect
all just steps
then you want to forget
instead you remember
those fleeting moments
moments in time
time after time?
maybe
then you wake up
but yet your eyes are still closed
always you try to remember
then you want to forget
is it even worth it?
purpose
it's all a purpose
maybe a journey
or was it all a lie
of all the time
of good times
fed to you by someone else's memory
of bad times
of any time
time
are we all just an illusion
are we all just dreaming
have we even woken up
did we even live'
does life even exist
does anything exist
did we start at all?
do these thoughts ever come out
does it ever become real?
then
we have to ask
what is real
what is
is it all just a dream
someone's dream
are we even real
doess it even matter
is there even matter
what is matter
then it stops
we all take a pause
take a breath
breathe
just breathe
voices
voices in the head
confused shouts
what is matter
a jumble of words
emotions
unrecognised
but recognised
bah
then the place goes quiet
...
dead still
like a wind swept plain
nothing but grass swaying'
back and forth
are we all just apart of something
miniscule in someone's sonata?
then time
or no time
not enough time
never enough time
too much time
spent?
fleeting
fin

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7 comments
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The poem delves into the complexities of existence, time, and purpose. The exploration of existential questions, the blurred lines between reality and illusion and the introspective journey leave the reader with a sense of ambiguity and contemplation. Thanks for your work.

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Glad you like it.

Thank you for consuming it.

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You've received an upvote from the Blockchain Poets account. Thank you for submitting your poem to our community!

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dead still
like a wind swept plain
nothing but grass swaying'
back and forth

This is great vivid imagery.

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