James Arthur Casey
In the Light of the Holy
In the Light of the Holy
I can finally see beyond the Looking Glass
Questions few can bring themselves to ask
I have found some Answers
For the Future and the Past
No longer matter
In the Light of the Holy
In the Light of the Holy
In the Night there are songs I've heard
That Lift my Spirit to the Starlit Sky
That force the Teardrops from my stubborn Eye
and I feel no Shame
Illuminate the Truth behind the Lie
and ease the Pain
In the Light of the Holy
I will take no chances, it is worth the risk
No Sacrifice to see the World like this
My sole Regret is everything I missed
Before I opened my eyes
Before I opened my Mind
In the Light of the Holy
And the Light of the Holy
Shines brighter than it ever has before
Reflecting on the banks of Heaven's shore
bright as sunshine
In the Light of the Holy
God turns a blind eye
If only for a moment
Lost to me forever
I asked my friend to fill me in
This season out of time
Out of touch and out of mind
He knew all the clues and the juicy details
Tasked to remember that night
For this moment of truth
Serendipitously placed in this time and space
To remind me of days soon faded away
To shine the bright light of cold reason
With all I believed I never conceived
I was capable of murder
But when my head was pulled from the dream
The static uncertainty shocked me
A mean and relentless electricity
I couldn't fool or convince myself
I was part of this world
Far from the gaze of YWVH's stare
My friend tried to pull me out
To wake me from this violent dream
Eyes wide open, he wondered what I'd seen
I saw him the carrion hungry to feed
Miserable mercury, come to tell me the game had only just begun
A player on a vast stage, told to hunt me down
Bring me back to square one, full circle 'round
After so many years I'd tried to forget
The paranoia that read others' thoughts and words
As encouragement to me, but all that I heard
Were lies and cruel manipulations designed
To build up my hopes cuz the higher they flew
The harder they fell
It's what they liked to do
So I turned on my friend, neither he or the Lord
Would put me through that again
I would have killed him
I would have broken every bone in his body
I told him as much
The only thing I remembered, until now,
Was the cop right behind me and the cuffs 'round my wrists
That and silently wondering why
And what all had happened when God closed His eye
Silently riding along the state highway
Sitting uncomfortable, metal at my spine
The cop turned on the radio
I didn't think they could do that
Grateful Dead, "Friend of the Devil"
It sounded good
I want to share but I fear
The things I offer
Will be useless, unwanted by others.
Through painful experience
I've come to this conclusion.
I'd give it all away
If only someone wanted it.
Mine, all mine, mine alone
But none of it worth keeping
If I can't enjoy it with you.
Pick me clean before I leave
Behind these aspects.
Take what you want, take what you need
But take it, take it all from me
Before the rushing wind blows it all away.
Before the rushing wind
Kindles baptizing fire
To burn all I ever was to ashes
For to fill the gold or silver urn,
Precious to friends blessed by generosity.
A blessing I was more than willing to bestow
With love, thankfulness and appreciation.
All I had to share were seeds of memories.
I can only pray
The harvest will be bountiful.
You wanna know something about my life?
I was born under somewhat unusual circumstances
Ripped from my mother's womb by force
I laid her out and put her down
While I got my bearings
They say I roared like a lion in the jungle
Kicking like a mad ass ridden by my father
Who, I'm told, never wanted kids in the first place
I set my course to curse the time he had left
His seed had sprouted into weed
So I choked those last days good and strong
To crawl back to my mother's tomb
Lay me down to sleep and dream
Of comforting placenta
Until an all too patient God
Brought him back to her
Together again, food for the worms
And it was time for me to leave
That stone was only meant for two
I walked in on my dad
He was watching pornography on the Internet
The sounds of animals fighting
Through tiny computer speakers
Had woken me up
The room was midnightdark
I know he couldn't see me
Bathing in the glow
Dimming and brightening
With each new camera angle
I crept out of the room, quiet as a mouse
Laid down in bed and closed my eyes
I didn't know what to do
I fell asleep to the rutting noises
Of nameless acquaintances, forgotten within the hour
When I was a kid, afraid of the moon
My dad gave me a glow-in-the-dark figurine
Of the infant Jesus
I still have it somewhere
It still glows
To wonder at the sound of another's heartbeat
and marvel at the rising and falling
The colors of the rainbow first filling wide open eyes
how they take the breath away
Claiming shapes and sounds and smells
the entire universe a pile of jigsaw puzzle pieces
One day fit together
to reveal the most beautiful reflection
To hear every sound for the first time
and know silence as ending and beginning
the spirit remembers
Struggling against and with another spirit
the soul is molded
Almost a fog, hovering around the body
Mine had grown dim
had become heavy as stone
A mocking albatross
with no patience for sluggish maturity
I'd begun to question it's very existence
convinced by a hateful science
Beaten so badly with the cudgel of years
I longed to be rid of it
Until you came along with your angel song
the very sound of our beating heart
Like the winging of birds
in free fall, ecstatic
You dragged me out of hell with the ringing of your voice
the singing of a song that pulled me into heaven
The sound of newborns crying in amazement
at the very rhythm of life itself
How bittersweet it is to surrender you
to the quiet from where you were born
I would hold on forever
but you fade even as my heart is filled
merged, quiet, waiting
You leave me knowing
you will never leave me
For you have become my soul
a partner in sound and silence
See the miracle of music
Sigur Rós played Fljótavík
A reverent calm
Between bookends of heaven's thunder
We were, everyone of us
Hypnotized, given over to a beauty
Like water to drown in
I don't know how long into the song
But a thought of you broke into my heart
Experimenting with chords
Trying to hit the high notes
Failing, even so all the more endearing
Those notes were really high
And you tried
I wanted to give you something good, pure
Something to remember me by
To take the edge off the bitter memories
I blame on depression
Memories nonetheless, ones that loom large
Proven by miles and miles and miles
So I wanted to give you something good, real
To serve as a bridge to one day cross
Above a dry river bed
That should have been teeming with water
As Jonsi hit the really high falsetto notes
I felt something like a bolt of lightning strike through my very being
He hit them perfectly
But that's not what I heard
That's when I felt that old familiar bittersweet feeling
In the pit of my stomach
And had to fight to keep my mouth from twisting
I finally surrendered to the feeling that words will never describe
But I kept the tears from dripping down my eyes
And soon enough I was glad the song was over
Even while wishing it would never end
I sat back in my seat
I looked around to see if anyone noticed the anguish in my face
I had to confess to a strong sense of paranoia
Because really, who would take their eyes off of the stage
When Sigur Rós plays Fljótavík?
If there's one thing I regret in this life
It's that I wasted my finely honed gift of telepathy
On Internet dice games
Free apps, obviously designed
To stave off pure boredom
And kill precious time
Free games, without even a small pay-off
Free games, worth every penny
Free games, not so much the skill of telepathy
Dice games, the luck of the roll
Dice games, immune to strategy of any kind
Dice games, not so much the skill of telepathy
It's times like these I rue the day
I came to the realization
The wells of telepathy had run dry
The deep ocean of telepathy sopped up
With the proud assurance that I knew exactly
When my opponent would roll or bank
I could have been a diplomat, read some leaders' minds
Or a well respected advisor, or even a CIA spy
I could have made a killing, a fortune teller's wage
A gift that kept on giving because people want to know
From where they once were coming and where they soon will go
Or something half as simple as a failsafe "yes" or "no"
I could have done a lot of things
But only one thing that I would
Kick some ass playing Farkle
And yea though I feel some regret
And yea though this decision seems drastic
Come, all ye faithful, watch me kick your asses at Farkle
I must have given her that Grateful Dead t-shirt
Too tight now for my thickening chest
It hung like a sheet from her bony shoulders
Draped to cover her tiny breasts
The sickening smell of cheap menthol cigarettes
Would have pushed me far away yesterday
I was thinking I might have to get used to it
She wouldn't kick that for the world
I must have had a thing for pixies
Or bruised fairy tale princesses
With glass slippers smashed into a thousand shards
I stepped on every last one to pretend
I was the saving prince, the forgiving hero
She never asked for
She never needed
She never wanted
She'd leave that guy waiting on the phone
Tiny, fragile dreamer
Dancing at the ward ball
I'd seen her a few times before
Acting like a whore with a joint in her sock
She made me sick
A strange sickness that drew me to her
A saccharine smile hid the selfish harlot's heart
It didn't fool me for a minute but I didn't care
No worse than anybody else in that packed house
I'm the one who asked her to dance
With her barbie doll's head on my shoulder
And our eyes closed tight
The slow rhythm gave us permission to take our time
I knew what I was doing when I requested the song
I knew what Springsteen meant when he sang
"Heart and soul...heart and soul...heart and soul...heart and soul..."
Only to find out in the end
She had neither
But it was easy to pretend with the other lost people dreaming along with us
She don't have that damn shirt no more
And I don't have to know that for a fact
To know it's the damned truth
She don't have nothing from me
Not even them memories
I hoped to get into her
Stinking damn teeth
Skinny fucking trash
Alien face, big teeth
You thought I didn't have a heart, either
Or a soul but you were wrong
It wasn't for you to take along
To whatever hell you went to
When you left me on some universal corner
Standing by the phone
You dead wench
I won't listen to that song anymore
Get out of my mind
No one else hears you but me
And most of the time I can keep from listening
I never cared about you
You didn't give me a chance to
I put all my bibles in a big box,
Stacked two-high, two long rows,
That was heavy to lift when the lids were closed.
All the books of theology
Endless volumes of philosophy
Filled five more boxes in the trunk of my car
It seemed that one box was lighter than the others
But I didn't think it was worth the time
To weigh them.
I carried them for 30 miles
Until I found the apartment
Of the old lady who bought them from me on the Buy 'n' Sell
She'd only had five dollars when she made the call
Said her home was lonely, her mind was lonesome
I spent more than five dollars buying gas for the trip
Heaving them out of the trunk with a grunt
I asked her if she wanted me to unpack them, put them on her shelf
"Oh, dear! I don't want to put you out!"
I took the first few books from the first few boxes
Running my finger down the spine of an old favorite
I felt a pang of regret
One by one I handed them to her and she placed them on a wooden bookcase next to a television set
Out of order, no sense of alphabetization, she didn't care
It was stupid of me that I did
Two rows across and two rows down
I gave her the last of the bibles
She marveled, "That's a lot of bibles, young man".
"Yes, it is", I agreed and she turned away
I was so glad she didn't ask why I was getting rid of them
What she must have thought
As if it mattered what some crazy old lady with just a five dollar bill thought
Five dollars to buy a few thousand dollars worth of dusty thought and rusted belief
Forty years of crossword puzzles, the easy ones quickly done, the expert ones left unfinished
So many not even begun
As if it mattered that she could never understand how dumbed down I'd become
Falling beneath life's hard demands
Taking the punches, getting back up again
I could never have told her, whether I wanted to or not,
That those books had picked me up and then let me down
Too many times to count
Those books had given me treasure to take it away
They'd taken my heart, swept up the floors
Opened the doors for Legion
They left me with nothing but answers to questions
When questions were easy to answer
And they teased with the only answer that mattered, refused to give that one up
Through pages and pages I waded and waited
For some kind of hope to go on
Something to show for once and for all that the wading would soon meet the shore
I expected too much of ink and wood
To convey what I needed to know
Binders and leaves could never contain the spoken Word
I tried to give her the five dollar bill back
She could have it all for free, it meant nothing to me
The trip had been a nice one, her manners were sweet
She wouldn't take it, though twice I insisted
But she sternly insisted to me
"There's too many bibles in this here lot, you have to take one back from me"
She was right. There were way too many bibles in that lot
I couldn't argue with that
And though my better instinct begged me to flee I got down on my knee
I reached to the bottom shelf, a pain in my back
I picked out a ratty old paper bound NIV
I'd drawn shit all over it to prove that pages and ink can never contain
The living...the breathing...the mystery...the words spoken
Even more importantly
I took that old tattered book and threw it
In the passenger seat of my car
I never thought about it all the way home
I rid myself of words and language
Driving through the dark night, squinting at the lights of oncoming cars
Dimly aware of the instinct to look away when they got too close...too bright
Turned my eyes to the right for the seconds until
Darkness returned for the precious time
Before another car came up and over the hill
Up, up, over the hill
In my pocket a five dollar bill
And a bible to my side
it would seem I've been playing games
with god and air, electricity and dirt
i've stuffed hope deep in my chest
for the sweet assurance they've bourne
surrounding my heart
i've breathed deep the air that floats about me
a swirling bed of fog I called spirit
felt my chest rise, receiving
knowing without knowing
dying was all I had to offer for all of this
then from the other side of the blue sky
a light shone illuminating imagination
i had the skills of a novice alchemist
still enough to capture the mercury drop
of inspiration and tame it with words
that filled my mind and built my soul
from scratch and air and hopes of god
memories and dreams enough
to take with me when I leave
when the games are over
and they only matter
until they're over
Grasping for permanence
Once again slipping through my fingers
Daring me to try again
I'm laying down my poet's pen
Never picking it up again
Words no longer can describe
The thoughts that swirl inside my mind
Best they drag me down alone
Nothing here you need to know
Michael walked huddled through the valley of the shadow that followed him all night long,
Cast, fading then glowing, fading then glowing,
By the shine of bright halogen light meant to illuminate and show the way.
Micheal built a bridge. Michael burned it down.
Bibles on the tables at the last place he ate, with plastic knives,
Plastic forks and plastic spoons, cold canned chili never so delicious.
The rat stole the bread, wasn't that something to laugh about?
And he fought like a soldier for a blanket on the floor.
Cold wind pushed him forward to the Great Unknown.
Cold and shivering
Someone stole his coat while he was giving blood.
He kicked himself for leaving it in the lobby.
He said, "What kind of fool am I, how did I get here?
Was I so naive as to think someone wouldn't have taken it?
These ghosts are every bit as desperate as I am."
Michael built a bridge. Michael burned it down.
"I would have done the same thing cuz goddamn it's cold,
This void of uncertainty, this sentence I've been handed.
Time drags so slow I cannot feel it pass.
Nowhere to go. Go to be going. It tires me."
He sat on a porch last night with grizzled, bent sages
The sweet sick smell of alcohol floating like fog from their mouths.
"In this world," the sober one said,
"You've got to learn to fight and beg."
He knew in his heart of hearts
He could do neither.
So his fate on the mean streets was good as sealed.
Michael built a bridge. Michael burned it down.
It wasn't quite so bad when he still had that coat.
It was torn and frayed from the frost of older days
But the pockets were deep and warm.
His hands belonged there.
It gave some comfort when the chill came on.
When his legs were getting sore, he had to stop and rest.
In the slate brick awning of the old Indian school
He'd lain down to nap but his eyes wouldn't close.
It wasn't time to dream of how things used to be
Or how they all wound up being tossed to the wayside
Or to prophesy a future somehow rising from these ashes
Of the bridge that Michael built, of the bridge that Michael burned down.
Now Michael wishes he had stolen one of those Bibles,
Onion paper pages hard to turn
But good kindling for a fire on this cold night
In the valley of the shadow
Without a coat.
I like to think your eye is at the keyhole,
Your sloppy brain conjuring make-shift realities
for your majick to paint into thin air
from your lies.
Bald-faced whoppers or sneaky half-truths,
You twirl them around your illusion
a fantastic creation
with which to delight yourself.
A pitiful white smoke jin,
almost as quickly
as it rose from the flame.
You honestly believe you've stolen my illusion,
kept it just long enough to smudge,
a chalk drawing.
You honestly believe
I've let you do it, unwilling and unknowing.
Your fingers are dirty,
the powder won't wash away.
All for nothing.
You only erased the memory of what I once felt for you.
Ah, your makeshift majick works!
Well done and thank you.
How long will you keep squinting at the light on the other side?
Your eye must be getting tired.
Why don't you just open the door?
It ain't locked.
I've a feeling you've got a wicked temper
and a lot of hate built up inside that you
refuse to acknowledge,
try to ignore,
Until you're secure in the darkest corner of your prayer closet.
Facing a mirror,
Worshipping and damning
at the same time
That's when it boils over.
Dirty damn dog, frothing at the mouth...
Mean drunk, indiscriminate for a fight,
but there's no one at the bar.
Only a witch's cruel mirror
and all it says is...
"You aren't the Golden Child,
"Your majick is a sham
"No one cares enough to read you
"You're a thick, boring book
"The worst kind: a book about a book
"A book about yourself
"A book called 'Look What I've Done!'"
So here I sit, on the other side of your peephole view
Wondering what I should do next,
Knowing I'll never be strong enough to tell you
to your face
that I've known all along...
I walk through streets in your dreams...
Of this I'm certain
even as I know you're watching me right now,
with all your wasted mental projections,
charms, chants, lusts, cravings, desires, needs,
Casting that covetous spell my way but I guess
The keyhole must be too small
Because I don't feel a thing
and as I sit here,
naked in my own secret place,
I could care less that you live for these moments
of disappointed voyeurism
I'm so tired of walking this tightrope.
I'd rather fall than turn back
Only to be turned around again.
Turned around touched down long long ways from the ground.
I look out the door to a grey sky
The color of my mood this afternoon.
The very same grey...
The very same rain...
Maybe I shouldn't be listening to this music,
Melancholic as I knew it was before I even queued it up,
Expecting or hoping,..well here I am.
You're a drug I scored this morning and I couldn't wait
To get you my blood.
You're a hard drug, relentless, and now I cannot wait
To get you out.
Who pushed me into this corner?
What made the difference, pulled the last straw?
Closed my eyes? Opened my mind?
Opened my eyes. Closed my mind.
You're a hard God, teasing.
Blessing with confusion and the unknown.
Damning with certainty.
A game for the enlightened who know better
Than to believe it matters.
Anyway our animal souls won't realize
Until it's too late.
By day and through night
My brothers and sisters waited for him.
I never knew he was gone.
In a house heavy with history forgotten,
Save a few precious moments, hoarded,
That barely made up for an hour but at least they were mine.
I found myself last night,
With all that I'd lost,
Cowering in a corner.
The reasons, submerged beneath a thick, black muck of subconscious
Thought, I would just as soon not know.
I tried so hard to shove forgiveness down his throat when it was too late and he didn't need it.
There we were, wide-eyed and grateful,
Locked in each other's arms,
As if he had never been gone.
By now I knew
The newness of his heartbeat...
The novelty of breathing...
It was then I saw.
It was then I felt
His body held tightly in my grip, no longer frail.
I felt his warmth.
The heat, an aura of life,
Brushed against my chest and I grasped the body all the more firmly.
We shared the same air for a moment.
Selfishly stealing it into our lungs,
I was so frightened of exhaling.
He'd conquered that monster
A long time ago,
But he held me all the tighter.
I felt the pressure of his embrace...
We must have stood there for hours...
Or a few precious moments, hoarded.
I don't remember him ever leaving.
We stood like statues in that haunted house
Until the rain of nothingness soaked us to the bone.
I don't remember him leaving.
We merged into ghosts and floated together
Until the wind of forgetfulness finally blew us to other shores.
I don't remember him leaving
We dissolved into baptismal waters meant for saints
Until the Sun scorched us dry.
I never knew he was gone
From what well of unconsciousness do these words come?
How deep, how strange?
Muttered beneath thin sheets of sleep.
They come from a place where there are no lies.
Even so, the truth is tricky.
You never can tell.
It's good to know you're there to keep me from believing.
I wish you weren't listening, but hold me down, hold me down.
I say such silly, silly things.
Rhyming words of confession
I've offered accidentally
With no intention of repenting.
My own words, drunk on slumber,
Become an unyeilding relentless God
Who keeps me more honest than I need to be.
Who am I when I claim these memories that aren't my own?
When I recall experiences that don't belong to me?
Why don't I remember any of it? Any of it?
From what thick air do these visions unfold?
Dark clouds, thick rain
To wash clean and baptize dreams,
Revelations ripe for misunderstanding.
Even so, the truth is tricky.
Of that you can be sure.
You really should know how special you are
That I would trust you with these
Words, confession, dreams
A stream of nonsense, funny as hell.
From the belly of the beast you'll hear me laughing
At the God of inhibition, the God of oppression.
For who am I to bear this curse?
Why shouldn't I plunder memories and experience
When I won't remember a thing in the morning?
I know I could break your heart
With one instinct, one hunch
You'd fall to your knees
Either begging or praying
As if they weren't the same thing
With each moment that passes
The heart turns to stone
The flesh dies in time
Still the spirit lives on
Twisted air inhabiting life
Get inside my head, why don't you
Try to understand
From where I've gained this power
What it is and what it means
How I don't even have to do a thing
To strap the heavy burden of regret to your back
You'll carry it until the light of forgiveness dawns upon you
Or until the darkness of helpless realization
Makes it heavier still
Heavier and harder to slough off
Yes, you'll fall to your knees
I'll be the one who knocked you down
Without moving a muscle
Not a single thought of mine necessary
I don't want to do this
You made me
You gave me the power, yes
Not even knowing
Clueless as it became stronger
Not even realizing what it was
You were doing
No idea the damage
My great transgression was letting you
When I'm judged
For every moment I've sinned
My punishment will be knowing
I'd opened up just wide enough
For you to jump in
Not knowing how to swim
And for giving you a reason
To hit your knees
Begging and Praying
WARNING: The following is NOT a poem
It's an old guitar abandoned and forgotten, leaning it's warped neck against the cement wall of a cellar, caked with dust, strings useless with rust and dried oil
Ir's a video you've watched a hundred times but refuse to download because you're convinced it will give your computer a virus
It's a dust bin for calenders and a trash compactor for clocks
It's a scrapbook stuffed with reminders of things that very likely never happened and a wrinkled, road-weary rock star to convince you they did
It's the rancid odor of dead skunk that remends me of all the weed you burned
It's the goofy laugh some found contagious but I just thought was goofy
It's a running bet to see who could guess exactly how late you would be to an important occassion
It's a hell of a good time if you're looking for hells of good times you won't remember twenty-four hours later
If you don't mind losing the time
I doubt you even consider
That your leaving was such a betrayal
You couldn't consider much of anything with your gut
So full of cheap bourbon whiskey
Your words untethered from your thoughts
Your feelings numbed, just the way you liked it
If you cared the morning after
That was the only time you cared at all
I was robbed of the justice in calling you a liar
It took too much of your energy to stand
You surely had none to divine truth from fiction
Stand and talk
Move and breath
Glad to fool
You seemed cogent, enough to inspire trust
I shouldn't hate you
I despise you and I'm wrong
I loathe you and I know I'm judged
I am jealous of you and I am ashamed of it
I envy you and I can't help but wonder
From where did you get all this power?
What makes all these memories I have of you
Mock, Scorn, Torture me with guilt for all I feel
Even as you walked away you had no idea of what you promised
The ties that bind, you said, the ties that bind
They're hard to break and you were right
I've spent all these years trying to untie that knot
Every time I hit a snag I can't help but think of how tightly you wound them
It makes me despise you even more
I despise you even more because I know
If you were here right now I'd take you for granted
Every bit as much as I did when we shared the same room
Only difference being how acutely aware I'd be with
Well learned 20/20
God, I miss you
I miss the way you made me feel normal
The way you made me believe I belonged
Three sheets to the wind, plastered
Eight miles high and laughing that goofy laugh of yours
Hanging around long enough to pick you up when you fell
What I want to know, when all is said and done
Where were you when I was the one sprawled out on the floor?
Did you never think that I would need you to return the favor someday?
The view from down here is the one I am bound to remember
Looking up to a myriad of faces
Not a friend amongst them
Certainly not a friend like I thought you were
Teetering stinking drunk you could still lift me up and get me the hell out of this place
...and I can't even blame you
...you were a dry leaf blowing in the wind
...kindling for the demands I made of you
There was a time when it served me well to forget the times
When they were fresh to devestate
Hard times, mean times, time to forget but the memories wouldn't stay buried
For too long
It took a long time to keep them from escaping the soul-locked box I stuffed them in
Hoping, they would rot inside
Losing, with the passage of time, the power they weilded
What damage had been done would eventually be credited to other foes
But that's not quite what happened
There is a soul-locked box sits in the center of all I know
With no labels or any way to guess what might be inside
Be it wonderful or wicked
Light as a feather
Stinking, moldy air?
Ashes, fine powder weightless?
A black hole vacuum just waiting for me to open it
For to be sucked down and in to the times for which it was spawned
I don't know what's inside but this I do know:
It's something important
A missing piece of a huge jigsaw puzzle that covered my grandmother's coffee table
An instinctive aversion to Thursday nights at 9:00 o'clock
A resolution to never again defend the Bible to bullies
A plastic bag filled with flour, snorted like Cocaine
I don't know what's inside, but I do know this:
It's something important
A casual observer forced to take sides to help a weak man win
A look in the eye only noticed through hateful glaring and if eyes are truly the window to the soul...
A new meaning to the phrase "looks that kill"
A wet pillowcase still warm from muffled curses
I don't know what's inside, but this I do know:
I'm afraid of knowing
Because I think I DO know and now I don't want to
I remember pain and disappointment, fear and contempt
A loathing for someone who may or may not have deserved it
Someone with a set of excuses every bit as valid/worthless as mine
I'm afraid of the possibility ithat those excuses don't amount to anything
That forgiveness somehow got lost in the shuffle and someone went to heaven without mine
And I can only pray that there was a time he repented and forgave me in his own mind
Because I have a strong suspicion
That forgiveness is the key to the soul-locked box
In the Spirit, let the breeze dissolve the molding, rotten air
Let the Wind, which no man knows which way it comes or which way it goes, dissolve ashes into ether
I long to find out the times, torn from the fabric of time
Memories alive but unconsciously ignored
You tell me you can tear down those walls
I say Ignorance is Bliss