There is an old adage
About the silver lining of clouds
As though compassion, camaraderie
Bless me
Like seraphic light and sound
But the light of day
Is destined to perish
A boyish heart, naïveté
Adjudged to inurn a body I can’t save
There, at the crest of a mount
There, at the foot of a grave
Mouth, icy
Screams, like vapor
We stood on the mount
The light beginning to taper
Such eminence we began to doubt
The skies wept for what bond withered
Empty sentiments
We lay thither
And wrote the epitaph aloud
On our own masonry
And there the clouds came
Light refused to shine
Hope refused to grow
We sang a song to commemorate
We sang the empty refrain
I laid your body in the hole
And then you did the same
We sought the sun, like fools
In abandoned, loveless houses
Behind the mortar of schools
In the gap which separates
We ran
Towards the wan and sallow horizon
To escape the clouds
Which swallow the dawn.
Yet, it runs on ahead
Buried beneath oily coffins
In which I’m just a nail
A body and a whisper.
Mother Sky weeps
As I rest, eternally conscious
Condemned to witness a cyclical end
And let my blood, precious
Its exeunt, you contend
We are impervious
And towards the dawn, herald our song
Of triumph, love, camaraderie
We’ll galvanize the heavens, our victory so loud
But all that is before me
Is abject, loathsome clouds.