I once bought a girl an eternity ring
Eternity I thought was forever
It lasted another month or two
Then she left for someone more clever
It took a while before the pain had gone
And then I met sweet little Mary
At six foot two and eyes of blue
And a chin that always looked hairy
Mary and I were made for each other
And decided to marry in spring
Our love would last for eternity
And I’d already got a spare ring
©Julian Race 24/5/2021
skin, electricity and the bursts of the golden giant
she altered the chemical base of my brain,
and both shocking my neuron system
( soft explosions on the sun )
as if eager petals
opening to the touch of her hands
over and over again
between the atmosphere of oxygen and unsteady currents
with hushed tones and needing sighs,
into my blood and craving veins,
dipping those fingers into the matter of my core
counting my ribs
and humming a tune
forever imprinted in my soul
There is no breath left in my lungs for anyone else because she stole my last breath by one glance. There is no form of poetry to convey how the universe drips from her fingertips every time she caresses my skin. She is infinity wrapped in a cluster of colorful stars, and I cannot define her beauty.
She is my constant beginning and my never-ending.
time has become tangible. it begins to s t r e t c h, seconds becoming minutes and minutes becoming hours.
i've finished counting the tiles on the floor. there are three hundred and eighty seven of them, chipped and layered with dust. i had traced my fingers along the hairline cracks that ran along their edges. i thought i was being watched, but when i turned around, no one was there.
there never has been.
it's easy to forget that i exist. i hang on by a thread, kept suspended by my thoughts.
how long have i been here? i haven't been here forever, i'm sure of that. sometimes memories pull at my mind, nearly solid, of a place besides here. but i can't remember what took me away.
ashes to ashes, dust to dust. but there's an in-between.
and it's eternity.
The Definition of Killing Yourself
When life ends
before your pain does
- - - - - - - -
E Turn It Around
I would love to live an eternity
To never miss an event.
From men carrying children,
To a twenty year President.
When houses start
growing out the ground.
Riots not making a sound.
Food price sky rocket down.
No waste seems to be found.
Eternity is forever.
A luxury we can't afford to lose.
Do we settle for life as it is?
Or do we help change it, you choose?
I love you
and the moment spun
and I hung on a thread
while moon lanced the sky
with silver bright light
Was I wrong?
Did I speak too soon?
Were the sparks only mine?
My heart stuttered twice
and the stars blinked as
I lowered my eyes
I love you
And time resumed
its trek through
Every moment you have breath once the one who made that breath worth taking merges with the elements from whence we come and to which we all return.
A fact of life is death.
Eternity is not only yours.
An eternity doesn't end
Once you do.
Eternity goes on.
I know I can't live for eternity.
I don't think I'd want to anyway.
That hit me a long while ago.
I like things straightforward.
But I also know that I can't be
It hit me the other day.
I'm going to high-school at summer's end.
I won't be young forever.
Eternity isn't mine.
Eternal life is as impossible
As being eternally young.
“Eternity Was” - A Musing On Eternal Love.
If you’ll allow me the impertinence, (and as much as I hate being one of those quote-pushing sods who seem to think that all the world’s problems can be solved through witty quips and fictional explorations) I’m going to put forth a quote for your perusal. This quote is notable (by my flawed and insignificant reckoning) because on the surface we all think that romantic lines are pish posh. But we also know, upon closer examination of our emotions, that this one is deeply and undeniably beautiful and true:
“Eternity was in our lips and eyes. Bliss in our brows’ bent.”
~Shakespeare (from the play Antony & Cleopatra)
Is there now, or indeed has there ever been, a being on this Earth (one capable of reading English) for whom these words did not stir absolute, excruciating awe and simultaneous disdain?
Come now. Surely, obviously, if I may implore your honesty, gentle reader, can we not agree that there is no such thing as “eternal love”?
Loves fly, crumble and are reborn, more often than not in quicker succession than the human beings who bear them.
Yet, in my opinion, (and many others of course, I wouldn’t want to erroneously imbibe the pompous vulgarity of construing that I am alone in this assertion.) Shakespeare came as close as any human ever has to comprehending eternal love.
His works endure in us; striking us at our core, making us feel ridiculous in our impressions of a calculable reality, for which we mock him in due course. But for all his dramatic flaire and romantic talent, he somehow also manages the preposterous chore of relating a more believable notion of eternal love.
Because, in his characters, eternity itself is fleeting... permanent only in it’s impression on our mortal souls.