A gale tramples over fallen doors,
And desperate faces cling to a quivering flame, yet
No wall can reach their shadows.
I stand there shuddering with each lash
from the ice beyond the hearth,
A slow trickle from its toil dyeing the rubble at our feet. But still
No heads turns to face the dark.
I only know every spark withers and dies as it drifts from our circle, though the brightest voyage furthest into the night.
Looking beyond I am neither trapped nor free, but destitue
It is not resolve, courage, or despair that now turn me; I am lulled and must wake.
All thoughts deceive. Thoughts of men inspired, of gods deranged, echo in me,
And which is worse I do not know.
So tonight I will follow the sparks into gale,
Let the lash scour my ears of every voice,
And hope no man foolish enough to follow.
Jun 13, 2017
Jun 13, 2017 at 4:54 PM UTC
A gale tramples over fallen doors,
And desperate faces cling to a quivering flame, yet
No wall can reach their shadows.
I stand there shuddering with each lash
from the ice beyond the hearth,
A slow trickle from its toil dyeing the rubble at our feet. But still
No heads turns to face the dark.
I only know every spark withers and dies as it drifts from our circle, though the brightest voyage furthest into the night.
Looking beyond I am neither trapped nor free, but destitue
It is not resolve, courage, or despair that now turn me; I am lulled and must wake.
All thoughts deceive. Thoughts of men inspired, of gods deranged, echo in me,
And which is worse I do not know.
So tonight I will follow the sparks into gale,
Let the lash scour my ears of every voice,
And hope no man foolish enough to follow.
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