WHISPER OF THE ICE THAT BURNED

Whisper of the Ice That Burned

The oceans were on fire

And the sky was dry as dust

Blood red tears ran down my face

The color of old rust.

Outside looking in

Upside down and up

Rain was pouring from the hole

In my battered silver cup.

The horses flew in wingless flight

On alabaster roads

With armored shoes upon their hooves

Tapping out the codes.

And angels, ah, the angels

Watching from below

Heaving sighs from their pursed lips

At what I did not know.

The stars on furrowed, fertile fields

Lit the clouds above

Wondering how they came to fall

From dark skies that they loved.

And I, in constant deep dismay

Walked the desert sand

Holding woe clutched to my heart

And dread within my hand.

Here and there, a nightingale

Cursed the burning night

Singing in an unknown tongue

With eyes devoid of sight.

Thorns and thistles vining high

Above the heads of trees

Encroaching and enclosing me

Empowered by my pleas.

Skeletons that wore no flesh

Dancing by my side

Mocking, ever mocking me

And my flesh arrayed in pride.

'Twas then I knelt on blackened ground

Begging for the bliss

Hungry for a human heart

Starving for a kiss.

But in the twilight of that hour

There was no human near

My voice in echoes answered back

And magnified the fear.

I saw great blocks of ice on fire

Saw mountains humbled low

Valleys full of hurricanes

And it was forty-nine below.

But then from somewhere far away

There came a gentle word

I raised my head to look around

Wondering what I'd heard.

"Don't go to sleep." the whisper said

"To sleep will make this seem

That all is well down here in Hell

For this is not a dream."

©by Voo

Sept 30, 2010

11:01 p.m.