My shadow
it wants to be me,
it's jealous,
can't walk and can't sleep.

It thinks
that I'm living a dream -
it would do anything
to be me!

Be careful
what you wish for
- I keep telling him.

And he is surprised,
he doesn't understand.

One day
we will swap fates anyway.

It billows like the clouds on the horizon,
an ancient missive rallying through the sky;
Content to find its way to earthen dwellers;
and touch the sacred soil before our eyes.

Often, I'm reminded of a childhood dream,
that cast a promise through the years ahead;
When leaves protected lands like holy feathers,
erasing fears now ripped apart in threads.

This very potent dream brought vast illusions,
of stars which carried purpose through the night;
Eloquence became the wondrous centerpiece,
adorned in fashion's rainbow at the site.

Still reminded of the moments when it rained,
while grabbing hold of lessons taunting me;
Yet somehow 'springs of summer' cast a light,
beyond the image of the emerald sea.

This vision foretold to me engaged my mind,
in captivating blooms from sunny meadows;
And if I ever wandered far from home,
this dream would always find me in the shadows.

.
Blush the sky with teardrop rips,
let the blood flow free
to spill 'pon the cheeks and fall,
creating puddles of coy crimson.
A mind slowly disintegrates,
no-one tries to halt the decline
and it washes away reason,
the victim unable to resist submission.
Corpuscular clashes with synaptic
and the result transforms tragedy
from the root of all sadness
into an icon of blind worship.
The teardrops freeze on a blank face
that masks a venomous enemy
wrapped in a Hood of poison
that swallows the blushing sky.
A cage of pitch black threads
patiently studies the inner pendulum,
the tick tock of search and destroy,
time weaving its panic dark webs.
Psychotic anxiety in the waiting room
as horses dance on candle flames,
the Knight checkmates his own King,
the pawn is an easily taken prisoner.
The coy puddles of crimson burst,
shattering the mask to reveal another,
a shadow-hand coils its claim,
and the journey begins, cometh the Hood.



© Pagan Paul (11/08/19)

She slipped further
Then further down
Lost feelings embedded
Presence of never
Again being found
Light flickered softly
As if it may not last
Hope for tomorrow fallen
Like the leaves
From fire scared trees
Scattered to the ground
In the past
Her mind starts to race
Into lost yesterday's
Wandering on paths of
Flesh giving ways
****** pain strikes
Her feelings alive
A message from The
Spirit sent from within
Reminding her that in
The past she had asked
The Savior for forgiveness
Of her sins~ Praise for
The Light Rise on
The horizon
Once again

Always will the sun
shine upon closed eyes until
we all learn to bloom.