As the world crumbles,
So do we.
We are but victims of gravity…
Held down by outside forces.
We try our utmost,
And fight on,
Through each dark night, to get to the dawn…
Despite our insignificance.
As the planet turns,
So do we.
We are but victims of gravity…
Bound by corporeal law.
Digging tunnels leading nowhere…
Circling back in futile despair.
K. Aldaya, 5/29/21
Picture: By Joanna Grace on Unsplash; https://unsplash.com/photos/AteF4SIV_Uo
You don’t want to believe,
And you do not care,
Because you do not have to.
You live comfortably…
Unaware.
For you will not believe,
What you have not known;
So, you’ll cast away my words,
Leaving me in silence…
All alone.
I don’t want to believe,
Though I have no choice.
Living is the greatest proof,
That I can not trust you,…
With my voice.
K. Aldaya, 5/18/21
Picture: By Jackson Simmer on Unsplash; https://unsplash.com/photos/1grn4afhiEE
Give me a man who’s pure evil,
Over a good one anyday.
At least the cruel man is honest,
And you’ll know his intentions right away,
But a good man who does evil things,
How does one anticipate or react?
When you’re unsure if someone will do harm,
What is the best course or tact?
Give me a man who’s pure good,
Over an evil one anyday,
Because the good man is honest,
And you’ll know his intentions straight away;
But an evil man who does good things,
How is one supposed to feel about that?
The head spins unsure of what to think,
Or how best to view them or react.
Give me anything but a human,
Who rides on a tipping scale,
Of kind of good and kind of bad,
How can any of us prevail?…
In a world where everyone is in question,
And anything can be put on display.
Honesty is preferable to high moral ground,
And trust is just a game we play.
K. Aldaya, 1/19/21
Picture: Scarlett Johansson as Black Widow in Avengers; https://vocal.media/geeks/5-avengers-sure-to-die-by-the-time-marvel-s-phase-4-rolls-around
Hold fast to today,
For it flits and it flies,
Up on and away…
Into the vast skies,
Of yesterday.
Where all of us go,
When we leave and grieve,
In the long ago,
As writer’s weave,
And stories sew.
K. Aldaya, 8/3/20
Picture: By Dmitry Ratushny on Unsplash; https://unsplash.com/photos/O33IVNPb0RI
There is a tall castle,
It looks lovely from the top.
The tower is inviting,
So passersby often go up;
To see the sea of green,
And to the fae, raise bounteous cup.
However, this castle,
Is a most sprawling domain,
With levels and rooms galore;
Though no one wanders without aim,
As each window and door,
Is locked with keys of their own name.
And each key rests below,
In the haunted dungeon halls,
Where the screams of yesterdays,
Still echo through the walls themselves;
And the terrors from those days,
Remain undusted on its’ shelves.
Thence, who would travel forth,
To seek out the truths within?
When blue skies are so pleasant;
And nature moves in expansion,
Adorning the present….
Burying tales without description.
Empty graves, without name.
K. Aldaya, 5/18/20
Picture: Originally by Evan Mitchell on Flickr;
https://wallpaperscraft.com/download/mask_bw_monochrome_124766/3840×2400
My Soul is a Lock Without a Key 