[Solucet]

I don't really participate in contests -- I actually can't remember the last time that I was part of one. I suppose they can be... entertaining, I guess, but I see little point in competition, personally, even if it's just "for fun." Actually, especially so in that case.

Anyway, before I go spiraling off into the tangent I just deleted two paragraphs of, I figure approximately 12 hours is good enough before sharing something else. Especially when the idiocy of that first poem leaves me feeling nauseated.

All in Due Time

This is optimistic nihilism:
All that's done is dead,
And the truth is just a liar
With nothing left to lie about.

So we dance,
Adrift amongst endless gardens --
Flowers grown of flesh and death,
Monuments to endure --
Scattering the seeds
And crushing their lovers,
Moments to be captured
That fade to dust in weathered hands.

And it settles,
This film of sentiment,
Each footfall of the adagio
Cleansing stolid perseverance,
The light cast upon us
Leaving shadows of our souls.

We're impassive, yet enraptured,
Lain beneath the winds
Stealing seconds to behold --
Tales of hours,
The whisper of constants,
And stories of our own.

Yet they sway,
Lost of protectants,
And fall to infinite gardens
As the wisps of dying lovers
Watching flowers grow from stone.

This is desperate idealism:
All we've done is inconsequent,
Yet we continue anyway.