Whistles From Aether Poem by Julian Carlos Co

It begins with no sensible truth,
No chaos to kiss.
It's not a figment of mind,
But a figure that dawns upon men, love.

We love because we're incomplete,
So to forge the pieces we lost,
We struggle to fight,
The armies of our own.

Carry us home
To hills with no extent,
Seas to know sides,
Deaths with no hope

Furiously it swept the dreams,
Our childood or youth.
We weren't adults till then,
but our immaturity, purged by rain.

Now is it okay?
To drift unto the unknown,
Possibly disappear from men.
Hereby, sleep for eternity.