McCandless

The quiet and the cold that is typical,
Lying half-conscious, awaiting the moment,
Reminiscing my acts that is naturally fanatical,
My weakened eyes steadily fixed towards Heaven,

With supplies running ever low,
And almost all energy withered,
There is absolutely nowhere to go,
It seems my days are numbered,

My life's memory is my only friend,
A faithful partner that stays on to the end,
Such a great comforter and a grim reminder,
Of the reality that looms ever closer,

Realizing that happiness is real when shared,
That is the only regret I bear,
Such epiphany have left me despaired,
Never to walk again in this body beyond repair,

These moments are not easy to go through,
Because all of us are given only a handful of time,
Just enough to act upon something we like to do,
and not waste them on demanding lifestyle,

The last few grains of time is all I have,
So little to do but to wait,
And to remember the souls whom I've met,
A fitting end for my memoir concerning my fate,

With every heartbeat getting heavier,
Everything grows darker and darker,
This fragile vessel gave out one last struggle,
To hold on in this futile battle,

Alas, I could see the hidden Light,
Piercing its way through the blight,
Full of awe and extremely bright,
It outshines even the darkest night,

The light has come to take me,
My first step to eternity,
I thank the Lord for all he did,
And bless those who read thi...

Coffee and pie

Sip after sip,
The coffee stood by my side,
Watching the rain droplets sliding down the glass panel,
Reminiscing on the days of the old,
Deciphering people's lives as they walk through the door,
Thinking though the possibilities of life by watching a long line of people,
Trying out the famous chicken pie,

Just like coffee and pie,
Can't life be as pleasant as we all hoped?
Indeed, we have lost the child in us,
Lying to ourselves that we 'must grow up',
To choose to ignore that our 'maturity' is the cause of all the troubles today,
We ourselves become the source of all the anxieties,
But are too worried to admit,

Alas, I could feel it,
The strong sense of curiosity,
The youthful hopes and dreams,
Even that child-like energy,
All bound up in this corrupt prison,
Wanting to be free,
To explore and make positive changes all over again,

But, of course,
Until we could find the key to our own prison,
The mundane cycle will roll on,
Unless, of course, one always finds the time and appetite for coffee and pie.