The Things He Has Seen

He has seen his own birth.

He has seen hell.

He has seen darkness,

and he has seen despair,

and he knows what it means to be forgotten.

He has seen pure, blinding love,

and he has seen it blossom before his eyes.

He has seen the golden church bells ring at noon,

and he has seen the little lady who walks from the market with a red umbrella in her hand.

He has seen the sun rise,

and he has seen it drop.

He has seen ancient cities;

He has seen them thrive,

and he has seen them crumble like ash.

He has seen the light of the moon powdering the sky,

and he has seen the stars kiss its glow.

He has seen infinities.

He has seen short, crisp moments that seem to disappear before his eyes,

but that ache for more time.

He has seen different galaxies and

he wishes that he could inhabit one of them but

he has seen too much danger to know it would not be safe.

Even though he has seen so many things,

he wishes that he could see more,

but he has lost his innocence once and he knows that it cannot be lost again,

for he has seen things that have scarred him,

tainted him; and

he has seen the end.

And sometimes he wishes that he could un-see it all

but oblivion is impossible.

He has seen his own fall.