He yelled and he begged, he begged to know
Why the air often shifts, who told the wind to blow

Silver pine needles hide amongst the leaves
Where frozen raindrops roll like marbles
A little strange for spring, he believes,
Yet all thoughts he wants to speak, lazily he garbles
He does not remember what spring even is;
He does not remember the names of colours these
Wrecked trees wear upon such weather
He forgot if his love's name was Heather
Or maybe Annatea, Philip, Gabriel, more…
Does he even have a lover? Now he thinks;
The thinking he does strikes him as a bore,
So it fades to memory and to past it sinks
And this memory stays, but not for long;
Weight in his head and body feels just wrong

Seven ravens pass lining up over the sky,
Where the colours overlap in a gradient pink
The sun just barely shines over wheat and rye
As he begins to wonder how he's able to think

He yelled and he begged, he begged to know
Why everyone is told to reap what they sow

He finds precious stones filled with gold
And doesn't remember how much they are worth
Nor why he's picking them up on this road old
What even is he doing down on this Earth
Where all true value in knowledge lies,
Where everything one day, eventually dies?
And all names that have been given meaning, in truth
Are to be forgotten with no trace, without mercy or ruth
He, with no name, will at least be spared
Because oblivion doesn't work on those who know not,
Those who will not care, don't care and haven't cared;
The pretty illusion entertains this pitiful lot
Yet he is confused, with no peace of mind,
And the knowledge he's lost he yearns to find

Why do you want to find whatever may ruin your life?
Ignorance is bliss, so why do you long for strife?
White roses will sit on your grave as you sleep tight,
Why do you still want to know what is wrong or right?

Yet he still yelled and begged, he begged to know
Where all these stars are telling him he'll go



© shishmish