(!!!note to the reader!!!: this poem was written in a specific format called a sestina, for those of you that don't know what that is: a sestina poem is a poem consisting of six six-lined stanzas and a three-lined envoy. The end words of the first stanza are repeated in varied order as end words in the other stanzas and also recur in the envoy. therefore I could only use the six same words to end the stanzas so it was a very difficult poem to write.)


endless dreaming is that what we call death?
When we dream we escape our flesh
and we enter a world of the mind.
We try to escape the mass of physical matter.
The blind man sees the truth in the void
and he can feel the pain of the visual silence.

When we listen to the dead all we hear is silence.
The sounds of life are given up as we pass into the realm of death.
The golden ticket we see as life now becomes void.
Our brain can only interpret, for it is merely flesh.
We hold dear what truly does not matter
and we close the windows and doors in the house of our mind.

Let my body decay into the earth, I don’t mind.
I embrace the long sleep and endless silence.
I can see our swirling energy driven matter,
it logically must end in death.
One thing that certainly does not last is the flesh,
our bodies turn to dust and blend back into the void.

The space we occupy is quite small in this enormous void.
The thing that stops us from finding the truth inside is our mind,
our thinking is trapped by the weakness of the flesh.
When can you actually feel the silence?
Can we only find this peace through death?
In the end will anything truly matter?

Everyone wants to be unique, and everyone wants to matter.
I refuse to accept the supposed emptiness of this void.
Is there anything to find after we enter through the gates of death?
Being blinded by the mind,
we will never be able to see the silence,
and we cannot feel the silence with our flesh.

Will a cannibal eat his own flesh?
And if he did this would it matter?
Can a sound eat the silence?
Is that how we were created in this void?
Can we truly experience anything in our weak little mind?
Can we solve the riddle that is death?

I want you all to see the silence and feel the void.
I want you to experience the flesh, but realize it does not matter.
I want you to open your mind to the nature of death.

By: Jenni Anderson(my real name)

(FYI:this poem is protected by a creative commons license it is my own authentic work, so please no stealing)