There’s nowhere like never
Purgatory of the mind
The info man has the answers
Behind his booth made of time
4th dimension relapse
As the minute hand proceeds the hour
Noon falls victim to midnight
As the stars regain their power.
We remove soul from host
In a biological defeat
Don’t judge a man’s travels
Until you’ve read the stories
Told by the lines in the soles of his feet.
With each worth a thousand words
Pictures paint themselves so clear
But can’t capture the brilliance of a soul
Until the last breath is gasped here.
Then moon recites the epitaph
That’s etched into his face
From the creators of his brutal beauty
he starts off slow to set the pace.
We remove soul from host
In a biological defeat
Don’t judge a man’s travels
Until you’ve read the stories
Told by the lines in the soles of his feet.
And the mother reunites our flesh
With the sanctity of her Murth
For we have reached the finish line
To lay our bodies beneath the dirt.
And our fathers faces have faded
As we forget all that we’ve been taught
Except his final lesson
Of the art of selfless thought.
We remove soul from host
In a biological defeat
Don’t judge a mans travels
Until you’ve read the stories
Told by the lines in the soles of his feet.
Jul 2, 2010
Jul 2, 2010 at 1:25 PM UTC
There’s nowhere like never
Purgatory of the mind
The info man has the answers
Behind his booth made of time
4th dimension relapse
As the minute hand proceeds the hour
Noon falls victim to midnight
As the stars regain their power.
We remove soul from host
In a biological defeat
Don’t judge a man’s travels
Until you’ve read the stories
Told by the lines in the soles of his feet.
With each worth a thousand words
Pictures paint themselves so clear
But can’t capture the brilliance of a soul
Until the last breath is gasped here.
Then moon recites the epitaph
That’s etched into his face
From the creators of his brutal beauty
he starts off slow to set the pace.
We remove soul from host
In a biological defeat
Don’t judge a man’s travels
Until you’ve read the stories
Told by the lines in the soles of his feet.
And the mother reunites our flesh
With the sanctity of her Murth
For we have reached the finish line
To lay our bodies beneath the dirt.
And our fathers faces have faded
As we forget all that we’ve been taught
Except his final lesson
Of the art of selfless thought.
We remove soul from host
In a biological defeat
Don’t judge a mans travels
Until you’ve read the stories
Told by the lines in the soles of his feet.
written June 4, 2009- From Through Our Hands We Speak From The Heart