POEM-Life upon death

Am I but a passing shadow?
A dark figure stooped low.
Am I to feel of sorrow?
Of feelings I’v yet to grow.

I am attracted to this world’s glow,
And yet I watch the waves pass slow.
Of bubbles so fragile and feelings so tense,
That of life a trial and its emptiness so dense.

Once I was a soul that seek its home,
And yet in me somehow I knew I never belong.
It struck me weird as I behold the world unfold,
The very stage upon which my story be told.

It was the light of love, of affection and the yearning of men,
It was the night of hate, its revenge and the dying of children.
With intensity, the life of each men, their tales, their motivation swept pass me …
And yet the waves passes me by no longer than their presence were to be.

I look to the star which held a past where I cherished the virtues of life,
The routine is the same but the star above mirrors the past of my rife.
It was a soul that has left my very feathers,
My wings the same but the fiery spirit has turned to dark embers.

Truly I walked this street upon my very own path,
And yet it is with no more than a bitter laugh,
That I shall have whatever that anyone might have desired,
I shall only find myself bemused by my own sight.

I sat a thousand miles from home where a family returns to the earth,
Even as a stranger before me held hope to his chest and a life rebirth.
I know not what this body feels as it moves under my very thoughts.
Detached am I from the very person I am within, all I have truly got.

I am not alone …
I live in a world of mirrors.
It is only as much as I can do,
That I wonder who is who.

I learnt much from my journey, the world is but a dream.
It is as much however you will it to be and every bit as in you it seem.
Ironically as I twiddle with my world by its seam,
That I have lost interest in that of life nothing more than a dream.

Of emptiness and apathy, I knew I would come to this,
I feared and wanted to die when I still had feelings.
Now however with no feelings I wonder if it needed to come to this?
I only wonder if myself would ever find enough to sigh upon my soul fading.

Even now my body rebels my soul,
It seeks whatever that would make me whole.
It runs tirelessly towards a new impulse,
Straining whatever blood that runs through my pulse.

It will keep going on until I died,
So long as whatever path I took was not to suicide.
It is with as much as I can do to not feel empty,
Upon which my soul has only sympathy.

Will I lay in bed any other day to realise one day I'v not lived to die?
That I have lived everyday as if I were to die?
Were I to walk down each day as I truly intend to live?
And keep walking without a future alive?
Were I to have every present intense?
To abandon it as I refer to it in the past tense?
I know not this wraith,
That was born of faith.

Yet another day has passed,
Another day of a dead soul animating my ever lively body.
My body aches and with its memories to last,
I lay me to slumber and myself empty.

With a smile and a maybe…
In emptiness might I finally dream.