The Last of the Black Words

Poetry is boundless, poetry is pain
all these writing words have come to you in vain.
They circle around a meaning but never stop,
trying to put a finger on it has driven me insane.

These words calm me down, but they're the last.
There's nothing of the Lord which I asked
that was actually reasonable. I don't deserve it.
Not when the true beauty of life in my words I have masked.

The end of a pointless journey has come to an end...
but it's helped me get past the many losses of friends.
Promises I keep, and until the evil is crushed
my words will stop flowing, they'll no longer float like dust in the winds.

What else is there to say?