I imagine, centuries ago, primitive humans were captivated by these very same sights, mulling over their memories, experiences, fears, and so forth, seeking to divulge the nature of their own illusive existence as they watched the light scatter at sunset and felt the rain splash against their cheeks, just as I have. It is one of the binding experience we possess as humans: The ability to look backward, forward, and to be aware of this moment; to realize that there is something more than just ourselves.
Though we may never be able to escape ourselves.
Have come back to make me cringe
Are we to fear that which we have evolved from?
I look to the sky
To try and find a better tomorrow
Yesterday is long dead
And today is an enigma
Violent violet velvet
Draped and slain
Smeared across the dire sky
The blues of dusk can slow the eyes
And vandalize the breath
The light of dawn brings with it the quagmire of aleatory
Night is just the median in which we try to close in
Regret can be a lasting scar
Can we never forget that which we wish to?
Tears can be wrenched by even the simplest of dues
Why do people get so sad when it rains?
Do all those forgotten memories ascend into the clouds?
And when they get too filled with things that have been lost and let go
Must they let them loose?
Are there angels crying by heaven's maw
Or am I simply plagued and plunged at my atrium's pew?