Mourning Dew

The glistening beads of water slide down the leaves, gently caressing them as they slowly well up at the tip before falling to the ground below.  Scattered across the landscape on every tree, and on each blade of grass, the tiny droplets of water feel the warmth of the morning sun as its light embraces all it touches.  The chill in the air lingers for a while before it slowly fades away like an old memory that’s endured the strain of time, leaving only echoes of the night behind.

A night that silently wept for the day that was, as tears fell upon the breeze unseen, before condensing on the surface of the land below.  A night that mourned for the day that shall never come again, as a new dawn does not bring about the same day as before, but births a new day like that of an infant child who’s just entered the world.  Yet, for a new day to come, the old must end. And with that end, there is but just a small piece of all living things that is taken from them, as life is not immune to the hands of time.

The morning sun’s heat finally diminishes the dew, scattering the particles into the air where they await the night, to be wept again.  For who shall mourn the day that was, if not the night?

 

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Author’s Note:

It’s been a while since I’ve posted, again.  Things have been…. stressful lately.  With financial issues among other things, posting has been at the back of my mind.  But the words have not.  I usually post a new picture with my pieces, but at this time I don’t have one to go with this yet.  I know what I want to capture, but with everything on my mind I haven’t done so yet.  For now, my default will have to do.

I hope you enjoyed the piece above.

Thanks for reading,

N

Suicide

Sitting here and thinking of you

Wishing there was more I can do

I pour myself another glass

Trying to forget the memories past

I’m on the edge looking down

Tired of running ‘round and ‘round

One small step is all I need

To end the pain and be set free

Feeling like there’s no other choice

Feeling like no one hears my voice

I close my eyes and feel the trigger

This hole I have can’t get any bigger

As the cold metal touches my head

There passes over me a sense of dread

With a deep breath I hesitate

Knowing everything is at stake.

Sitting here and thinking of you

Death my friend, I can’t come through

Not at this time

The decision is mine

I will be with you someday

But not this day

I have my life to live

It’s not yours to give

Not by my hand

I make this stand

I will be with you someday

But it’s not this day.

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Author’s Note:

I’ve made a few changes since originally writing this piece (roughly 3 months ago).  I wrote this one while drinking too.  I originally didn’t want this to end on a high note, and there may or may not be a version where it ends differently.  Maybe it’s out of character for me, maybe not.

This one is about making a stand.  Sometimes it feels like there’s nowhere left to go.  No one left to turn to.  Nothing left to give.  Is that really the end of the line?  No.  It feels like that, but it isn’t that.  We have the freedom to think for ourselves, to make choices, to live.  We can get back up after being knocked down.  Don’t throw that away, because there are some who would give anything to be in our place no matter how bad it may seem.  As bad as things get, and though it may continue to worsen, it will get better.  But only if an effort is made.  Only if you take a stand, in getting back up.  Remember, you are never alone.

N