If tomorrow never comes
ㅤㅤㅤI have written a thousand times throughout the years.
ㅤㅤㅤThere is no better confident than a diary soaked in tears.
ㅤㅤㅤMy pen would glide on the paper, almost possessed as it already knew its purpose.
ㅤㅤㅤIt is becoming awfully redundant after all these hours whining in the form of badly written proses.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
ㅤㅤㅤI was not intending to make these lines rhyme. I am tired of rhymes.
ㅤㅤㅤThe sound of my knuckles cracking to the Alexandrins counts,
ㅤㅤㅤthe head nods, the scribbled notes, the hard mode for lines–
ㅤㅤㅤthat never sounded right after the fourth reread. I recount
ㅤㅤㅤall those nights where the light was dim, but my eyes were bright,
ㅤㅤㅤfull of the hope that someday I will finally find them alright.
ㅤㅤㅤPeaufined words chosen like diamonds on a jeweller's counter
ㅤㅤㅤsound less melodious than the Zirconias in my tongue twister.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ
ㅤㅤㅤThis time there is no counting syllables, no funny puns,
ㅤㅤㅤI will let my heart choose the game it wants to play.
ㅤㅤㅤMay it be clever or sarcastic as long as it flows and runs
ㅤㅤㅤon this digital paper I would have scribbled on if vrai.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
ㅤㅤㅤ– Ha I cheated with a French word. My lexicon is minuscule.
ㅤㅤㅤRound and round I run the circle of the same thirty words I use.
ㅤㅤㅤEnglish or French? The struggle is the same and it's a shame
ㅤㅤㅤthat in Malagasy I can not summon my ancestors with my name,
ㅤㅤㅤdiluted in the wine of others' verses and religion. The collision
ㅤㅤㅤhas scattered my mind in different versions, one in a million.
ㅤㅤㅤInapt to chant idioms or proverbs like the village elder,
ㅤㅤㅤthis is an uprooted hommage to those who were stronger.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ
ㅤㅤㅤWeakened to my bones by the cold and the hold I do not have,
ㅤㅤㅤI do not get. I do not fret over* death or the unsure future with AI.
ㅤㅤㅤEmpires rise and fall. I have seen the climb, then follows the dive
ㅤㅤㅤinto the abyss, the consequences of a common hell for you and I.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ
ㅤㅤㅤFaith is the people's opium, but now we are hooked on synthetics.
ㅤㅤㅤGreed is stronger than hope. Money is the only master they serve.
ㅤㅤㅤIf tomorrow never comes they will trade the love for some extrinsic
ㅤㅤㅤvalues. Spot the cues on television, when they recruit new reserves
ㅤㅤㅤfor a war they do not fight. Business is tight, flies are opportunistic.
ㅤㅤㅤCanaan is said to be drenched in milk, honey, and maybe oil.
ㅤㅤㅤIts ruguous soil is now reddened and blackened with balistiques.
ㅤㅤㅤPeace is not a dream. It's a hollow cry-like call hovering us foals.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ
ㅤㅤㅤ Writing has never been as therapeutic as when my pen sat on the table
ㅤㅤㅤwitnessing me gliding through the words without after thoughts.
ㅤㅤㅤThe cathartic cadence of my common words finally feel relatable,
ㅤㅤㅤto my own experience and feelings as I navigate my inner doubts.
Amper Sand. Georges
04.04.26
Originally posted on Medium https://medium.com/@AmperSandGeorges/if-tomorrow-never-comes-6c90c42975d8