A suicide of angels.
One would from this angle
Wish their eyes were deceiving,
untrustworthy little orbs.
Their ears fearfully confirming
What their eyes see as burning,
But still what their brains cannot absorb.
All the while he is smiling
The one who, from afar, beguiling
Their denial into crying,
Terrifying panic, and insane rancor.
Oh! For the angels that should not have died before!
Then his smile betrays a clue.
This suicide of angels cannot be true!
What horror has been left for me and you?
The damage is done and he knows it.
Perhaps a wound impermanent, but who can close it?
Surely father time has no such tourniquet.
Now there is work to be done, stitches to sew.
What does the future hold? Who can know?
Once healed, these scars will follow us so,
We must do our best,
And learn to let go.
A note on…
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In the wake of this dark ship,
It passing by with my hopes and dreams,
Unclearly seen through a miasmic
Haze left by it, I try to clear my eyes and breathe.
Trapped in this slough, but only halfway.
Light can be seen,
Such as at the end of day.
A light that gives some hope much needed.
Though quickly it’s fading,
Time remains enough that it’s seeded.
And within my brain what remains of reason,
Encourages some strength to pass this season.
She has passed through the gateway,
And she has won herself a shadow.
Through the cosmos that lost day,
In its oceans, in their shallows.
The knowledge there, the thirst to slake.
In her search for solace now alone.
Darkness follows, darkness takes.
There is a chill down in her bones.
A chill that says: “No darkness waits!”.
In these dark days she contemplates,
Her shadow grants her pause.
No waiting darkness, no saving light,
Remembering the shadows cause,
And cursing the gateway of the night,
And its fathomless cosmic beyond.
Temptation and promise of such knowing,
Such as none should know or respond.
She grasps and holds it closer,
Fully aware of the cost imposing.
By now she’s seen a hundred lives,
In the future, a hundred more.
The gates shadow is her soul deprived,
Does she curse that open door?
Outliving the stars themselves
She’ll curse her greatest…
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Oh! For the arms that hold me!
For the hands that pick me up!
For my shelter, my strength,
For unending faithfulness,
For fathomless love,
For eternal mercy that comes from above!
Each and every day there is only one that I owe.
With every breath to Him I become more in debt.
And on the day when I’m finally home,
Shedding light on the secrets from the shadows finally crept,
Infinite forgiveness washes over me,
Unmakes them all, sin ceases to be.
Oh! For the price that bought this soul!
I can never repay, but this gift I can recieve.
Oh! For the day when I’ve come home.
This is the way we lose ourselves
When madness calls to darkened fells.
When we return to bloodied hands,
To sunken ships stuck in the sand.
Who’s left to hear, who will I tell,
There is no healing for the dead ones,
We are those made of lies spun!
There are no lies but life no truth but death!
The bloodied hands do their best.
We go back for more, we return.
They laugh because we do not learn.
In the midst of this confusion,
In this land that some call home,
So many take bliss and ignorance
In trade for their own soul.
This hopeless pain as fragile as a dream,
A breeze! The fog will clear! Easy does it seem?
Such are those that dwell in this sleep of pain that they,
Would pay in blood the bliss
To keep them safe from change.
Though our sunken ships…
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