The Sea of Truth by Pierce Dawson Henderson

The desire to see the other side overwhelms

I would due to the same reason some captains leave their own helms

For were will a ship sail without her skipper?

Into the nearest shore or beyond the great dipper

My philosophical thirst is just as well my cancer

Life is full of questions without an answer

My mind is swamped by this urge to take my own life

Answers to my questions, “Is God real” engraved into my knife

This disease has infected every fiber of my being

The line between life and death I know is worth seeing

The reality is I don’t think anything really matters

Our minds are so fragile, I fear that mine shatters

If all that’s real are these, yours, our, and my bitter memories…

Then those whom I’ve forgot about are simply dead-to-me?

My brain; an lonely abandoned asylum, blood stains on every wall

I sleep in a bed drenched with my tears that still fall

Where I sleep is where dozens began their sleep forever

Souls long gone with no one left to remember

These dead lives have never lived, never existed

Because their life stories and memories never persisted

My heart is rusting, all affiliated concepts, aspirations, and dreams are corrosive

The soul’s internal structure eroding, ending result is more than explosive

Flaming shrapnel and glass ripping, burning the fabric of mind

At least compared to the fire, the pain is quick-therefor kind

My soul is weak and in pain, now the body is relapsing

Washed by the waves of addiction, the minds tower of guilt is collapsing

As a child I fell into the terribly truthful ocean, the unforgiving sea

The same waves that the enlightened men and women wade slowly into to feel free

Into the water that is meant to be drank and felt slowly, I fell

The sea of truth did this to my mind and heart, now I reside my own creation, this personal hell.