The rain has passed yet we are all still huddled beneath our dark umbrellas
Shielding ourselves for fear that when we look back
Things will not be as we left them
And if this is life let me face death as if it were a silver bullet,
So that I might watch it reflect the young rays of light
Onto my face,
And send me blind into the hands of tomorrow
Have you forgotten that your god speaks to you through your own sullied lips,
From his throne nestled deep in the folds of circumstance,
Built of love and undreamt dreams,
Or perhaps of flesh and blood
If one is not the other,
And that he is often called a soul?
Your children stand alone atop frozen cliffs,
They do not feel the ground crumbling beneath their feet,
And where there should be iron cages protecting their fragile hearts
There is but bone,
So easily broken
Crushed by shoulders holding up the world by its bootstraps,
Or what is left of them,
Little more than what is left after flame has reduced to ash
All but the smallest of creatures to start anew
And we beg them to start anew
We beg them to wash away the bodies,
The open mouths that once spoke,
And were considered wise.
I am tired of running around in the confines of my existance
Your words are spoken,
Speak them not again,
And give all that you have left to those who still believe in magic