What is Melancholy
But the sound of a clock
Echoing its tick through the room,
Reflecting the beating of my heart?
Or the quiet tears held in check
Unable to trace a path along the cheek?
The breath - labored with heavy chains
That drag along the floor of my mind.

The Enemy is our closest friend
And our best teacher in the end.
We cherish them for challenges made
And save them so our strength won't fade.
We love them to death, and hate them the same.
For us, our enemy is the best part of the game.
And we pamper them while shaking their hand.
Then turn around and ravage their land.
Bound by the blood of each others men;
Brothers in battle, and with ale at the inn.
We save their lives so that when battle is won
The game continues until the final one.

My loss remains an unspoken word.
My ears are deaf, though I have heard
The Silence creep across my face.
I sleep at night with forgotten grace.

The voice that reigned as if my Lord
Falls quiet amongst the boisterous horde
Of Night Fiends and creatures that claw at my bed.
Sometimes I feel I waken as one of the dead.

And Silence is the enemy.

His heavy boots step onto the snow with a crunch.
Stopping, he gazes down at her beauty frozen in the Winter;
A perfect red rose held forever in her hand.

Golden tresses iced with death's sweat
Spread around her face; a mask, a headdress ...

He sighs and walks away.

My heart races for another beat
Feet tread along the street
Of life that keeps-a going on.
Day is short and Night is long.

But here I am and thus I stay,
A poem here or there, delayed
For mundane piles of 'stuff' is heaping.
A cup o'Joe and I'm not weeping.

Hope all is well for all of you,
look forward to catching up.

Today is the last day.
The sun rises over the hills
With its brilliant frills of light
Casting finger-like rays across my face.
The warmth of summer
Spreads across the room.
A soft breeze caresses the lace drapery
And brings bright memories to my mind.I wait ...

At noon the world is so alive;
People in cities bustle about there daily routines.
They do not see life, not really,
Unless they have lost something very dear to them.
Then reality laments in their perception.
As I walk the streets I see each face busy with 'now',
People lost on their concerns and immediate stress,
Not knowing that just around the corner lurks
The darkness of their own death.

Dusk falls like angel wings torn and drifting;
Cold like the heart that embraces me.
He comes, my Azrael,
The soft kiss of sleep touches my face.
He lures me from my earthly bed
Where upon my form lies dead
From the wound inflicted by one I loved.
Gun smoke rises by my blank stare.

(Something a bit different)

I have a bomb in my *****
Throbbing, pounding
Building in pressure and time is running out.
Time is running out for us.
Deep dark desperation rapes us,
Makes us ill and feeble, stressed and apathetic.
Time is ticking,
And the Void is on the Edge.

Forgive me Father for I have sinned.
I cross my heart and heat the pin
To burn out the angels and tarnish my soul.
Dark Father, I have forgotten your goal.

Our Cathedral stands atop basalt
Chaos churns its eternal assault
Across the horizon where my tears were shed.
Forgive me Father, I should be dead.

The Throne upon which your eternal flame
Rests on my brow - a crown of shame,
Has beauty and light crossing it's face.
Forgive me Father for kissing Grace.

Take my heart as if your own,
Make it bleed and make it moan
It's confessions upon the cold earthy ground.
Forgive me Father, for the Light that I found.

I have been to the highest step outside the gates of Heaven;
The gold flickers from the light that was within me.
I have been to the deepest caves of Hell
Where basalt lays as soot on the layers of my skin.

I have known the wonders of altering reality
With a word or a thought. It's easy.
And I have also known how it is deceived
To the point one has no control.

I have traveled the strands of Grey between
The extremes of Black and White,
And have worked them to aid and heal,
To defend and to start a fight.

I found there are many roads that lead
To Heaven and to Hell; I promise,
No one is traveled alone unto itself.
They weave amongst each other.

The Grid that nets us all as One
Exists for those who seek it.
But to use it is to be alone in a world
That finds each piece as separate.

I have kissed the hands of Saints and Angels,
And the lips of devils too.
Shadows bleed across my vision
Where Light and Dark create the Self.

I have been to many places that are
Reflections of us all.
But in the end no one is different,
We fade in the singular point of Death.