The Tomb

What ceaseless fury,
What abomination,
Would dwell within
This accursed place?

What blinding light,
What clenching shadows
Would dare to speak
Within these halls?

Rest forever
My simple mind,
My wretched heart,
Be still and quiet.

Such tempting beauty,
Such starving prey;
We shall not dare,
We shall not stray.

This roofless bliss,
This sunken maw,
Shall burn us raw,
Shall eat us whole.

Until divided,
In whole we fall;
To holy sirens,
As shadows call.

Ontoge

In summers we would play,
Chased by shadows.
Still breathing free from fear;
Half truths we felt.

Our bodies still rebelled,
Against the pull.
Still standing free from time,
We grew to know.

In winters we would flee,
Back home to sleep,
Still hoping we could feel,
The warmth of love.

Our world could shut us in,
Comfort we felt,
Still knowing that our hearts,
Could lie and bleed.

I Implore,

We who would write,
Beautiful recollections,
And strange perceptions,
We need not suffer.
All too soon,
Does this specter beckon,
With lovely lies,
Which fill our hearts.
We need not mourn,
Not for the future, though,
Perhaps for the past,
If only at peace, at last.
For, sadness speaks,
No man would doubt this,
But smiles sing,
And calmness cures.
Our futures,
This life in our words,
It is not sorrow.
It is not simple,
It is not single.
It is life;
True life.

The Right Choice

I wanted to tell you,
About how today was,
The first happy day,
I’ve had in a while.

I wanted to tell you,
So that you could know,
I’m not as hopeless as,
I was as a child.

I wanted to tell you,
But not to brag,
That I watched the snow fall,
And I sat and I smiled.

I wanted to tell you,
But I knew that I shouldn’t,
Because you’re too far away,
And happy without me.

So I didn’t tell you,
And it all felt less real,
As I watched the snow fall,
And wished you were here.

Arrested

Stay near to me, my dear friend,
Where my words might reach you,
Where my eyes may see you.

For freshly thawed is this,
My precious loneliness,
A mess of puddles now.

Drenched, sighing, muffled sounds,
Set loose the air of relief.

Yet still, I stay my feet,
Behind bars of grey conceit,
Still whispering to me,
The distance I might fall,
If I let anyone in,
Anyone at all,
Or dare to escape,
And blindly move on.

Stay near to me, my precious dawn,
Stay near.

Drawn

As long as the hills stretch,
So long shall our reach grow.
As smooth as the hills roll,
So smooth shall our strides go.
As far as the horizon rests,
As ceaseless the sun sets,
Such distance our dreams met,
Persistence, our hearts suggest.
As light as the clouds lie,
So light shall our souls be.
As free as the rain falls,
So too, we set control free.
For never shall we arrive,
And pray never to retire,
As the purpose of our lives,
Is the motion of desire.

Like Wisps

Autumn was punctuated
by a sudden shower
Of icy, crystal clarity.

And so we drew
Into the sharp void
Of an honest winter.

The problem with lies is
they become so brittle when frozen.
Burdened with translucence.

A tendency to fall apart.
Not worth the effort,
Not keeping us warm.

We needed something that sizzled.
Something to warm our hands about,
some kind of fire or friction.

We found it in warfare,
but lost it in victory.
Too high, the stack of headstones.

The tall shadow and crisp air
caused desperate reflection;
Why were we here?

So we gave into stillness.
And then we saw it,
The Truth.

The flames were our prison.
The fields of blood, our keepers.
Our loss, our light.

We vanished.
Chased by winter winds,
Like wisps, into the night.