Yet my mind reaches out in thick webs of ceaseless thought
Pondering its tomb of bone and rotted flesh
Eyes that once saw the golden rays and red painted sky
Now see only images æthereal in black
Shades of the past
And the faint ghosts of a future set in myst
Yet the present goes by unseen to me
So it is
Deaths hold is but a weak curse upon me
Yet without breath
My voice is heard
A timeless chiming
Echoes of an empty hall
Awaken the daemons
Consult the daimon
Let the angels speak
Words unheard
To those yet willing to hear
Know that this is but a ripple upon the coming wave
A tsunami drapped in fire
Even as the masquerade plays out
The prophecy unfolding
Charade or riddle
Has been written by greater seer and sage
Upon yellowed scroll
Repent in acceptance of the truth
Now
Or upon bent knee
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#passion #poetry #art #my words #soapbox
