Dominik Nemcsok
Spring morning, beautiful,
Waking up, courageous,
Never born, always brought,
In this World, why’d we fall?
Make-believe, all it takes,
Ambiguous bowling pins,
Imagine it, then fall in awe,
Of your own projection:
Façade show.
Clouds cry tears,
Why can’t we?
Makeup runs, so do we.
We never asked:
Who are we?
Let’s enroll in scrutiny.
I’ll be honest: I never knew,
That all this was,
Is a lightning show.
Big flash then boom,
All that’s left: A lingering image,
Of what has passed.
Wish they’d told me:
Look at that!
Someday it might be,
All you’ll have left.
Left of what, you may ask:
Maple leaves: grace and joy,
Starts out green, fresh and new,
Then fall comes, that ol’ folk,
Turning everything wise and gold:
Sudden fall or cascade down,
One grasp, thin air,
The whole truth comes:
Make some room for yourself,
Not for one made up of shells.
That brief time is yours now,
Listen, hear your heartbeat while
The final notes hit the ground.
In this World, We always fall.