Tempests
Tempests in my soul
Chained over with darkness
Like rivers raging to escape their muddy banks
Clawing their way through sand and stone to daylight.
I feel the intangibles clamor there
To breathe fresh air,
Ride on the backs of wild horses and dance on the hills
Underneath the midnight suns.
They are there and plural they be
Not one tempest, not one intangible
But many fires that blaze and burn
In a forest screaming, full of dead dreams' bones.
But I will not set them free
I will not let them become tangible
For if I do, for if I do, I will live forever in their chains
And men will see me as the thing they cannot bear.
I am like a cauldron full of fear
Stirred by life and death and dread
Long handled spoons held by black-gloved hands
Stirring, stirring, always stirring and laughing in my face.
The light at the end of the tunnel
Is some times an on-coming train
How many times I have walked into it's glare
And been torn to shreds underneath it's steely wheels.
If I do not write these lies
Are they still lies which never shall be read?
Books written far below the earth, still printed
On the minds of nightmare with the ink of darkened blood?
There are tempests here
In my heart and soul, they war
One day white, one day black, one day gray
Colorless things that wear long cloaks of confusion.
Intangible entities and ideas
Yearning to become tangible
In a hopeless world, they dream of crowns of iron
Wanting more than what one soul can give.
They burn, they burn with tongues of icy fire
Freezing souls to death in summer
And wrapped in chains as garments, you cannot run away
Unless you pull them with you as you go.
They tell me there's a lantern shining
Upon a mountain made of gold
But none can see it with human eyes
And none can find it with human hands.
But if you call from desperate depths
You may be heard, you may be heard
And relief may come in your darkest hour like falling rain
But the hands will go on stirring until your life's last breath
.
©By Voo
July 20, 09
11:34 p.m.
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