I want to live in a place void of other people,
A place in which I am surrounded by music and blanketed by snow.
I want to be surrounded by blues and cool greys,
Which reflect a heart that is not melancholy, but rather serene.
I want to be surrounded by the sounds of ocean waves,
Which come and go, never lingering in one place.
I want to be surrounded by crystals of ice,
Solid and piercing, yet gentle and beautiful;
I want to cling to the few beautiful things left in this tarnished place.
I wish to return to the times of childhood innocence,
When nothing mattered, and my only duty was to exist.
I wish to reset those days of innocence,
So that I may take back that time I wasted pretending to have fun,
And spend it preparing for the ruthless nonsense embedded in this society instead.
I wish to become one with the cherry blossom trees,
To become a fallen petal whose only duty is to exist,
To become a pink branch, swaying gently in the wind.
I wish to become one with the wind,
Lingering just long enough to be noticed,
But not long enough to be asked to stay.
Memories and conscious thought all scatter like flower petals in the wind,
Swept up by air a thousand times lighter than themselves,
Blown in countless directions, never seen again.
The sword known as time slices through the serenity of the night,
Tearing us from the safety of our beds
And forcing us to face the sun.
The sun will eventually burn away,
Turning from the source of all our warmth
To a white speck of dust,
Seemingly nothing in the vast expanse of space.
Humanity will disappear one day,
Along with all of its memories.
Everything we have ever made,
All our promises and histories,
Will one day turn to dust.
All of our mistakes will disappear,
Along with our regrets,
And everything we wish to reset.
All of our suffering will disappear one day,
Turning to dust, and then fading away.
Perhaps it’d be better, then,
If we disappeared sooner rather than later.
Perhaps then, the damage we’ve done may be contained,
And the little things we fail to save
May finally be given a chance.
Perhaps, as dust, I could become one with the wind,
To achieve the serenity I’ve dreamed of time and time again,
But could never touch, while my existence and choices
Were still chained down by other people.
If this were a published story, it would refute the previous thought.
If would say that despite the suffering, life is still worth it,
As though life is something to be proud of,
And death is something to reject.
But this is neither a published story,
Nor a patronizing piece of advice.
Death is not an evil thing,
Nor is life anything special.
Lives are like cherry blossom petals,
Fluttering in the wind when they can,
Falling down when the wind is gone.
They are all just insignificant particles,
Each to be erased with their return to the earth.
Perhaps it’d be nice if we could pick when we turned to dust,
Or if the wind would listen when we expressed our desire to become one with it.
Perhaps I’d like to turn my consciousness into salt,
And become one with the ocean I so long for.
Alas, these choices
Are not mine to make.