Fooling clouds cross my view
passing hurts and pleasures,
blue on white on white on blue.
'till black has broken through.
I dreamt that it
finally died last night,
that it was truly over.
Waves of guilt and fear
to carry me away.
Until I could no longer see
that place I started from
and I no longer knew
the place I was headed to.
Now, I gather stones
for the tomb,
while with wilful eyes
study my peers.
Lips pursed tight...
they have closed their hearts,
closed up tight to my falling tears.
Yes, it is I,
it is me I cry,
feeling condemned
by the unspoken lie.
A lie to weigh heavy
on my bent back body.
Heavy as the Christ's cross,
responsible for all souls lost.
Then I stumble and I fall,
as I carry my burden upward
to Golgotha of the Skull.
If to think is to act
then burning after the crash,
the fire's orange glow
brings forth the desire to let go.
Letting go,
why does it have to be so
hard to come by.
Leaving me to feel
so hard done by.
A selfish act,
done not from class,
no more from strength
than from some weakness.
An action out of chaos
in the absence of bliss.
The Shadowland,
where grief clings
to my name
and to their person.
Asking of today
to stride with a limp,
and of yesterday
to crawl and beg.
Forgiveness
would be the task at hand.
A ticket for
some far and
distant shore,
safe passage away
from Shadowland.
Bent, but unbroken,
while the pain of its death runs deep.
Not until
hatred is spent
and words of kindness
are spoken,
will forgiveness be complete.
Only one way to forgive,
that would be completely.
Only one way to live,
that would be completely.
Anything else
misses the mark,
comes from the head
and not from the heart.
And so, it remains
that for me to be free,
I cross the threshold of forgiveness
standing ready to turn the key.
Jan 14, 2016
Jan 14, 2016 at 6:34 PM UTC
Fooling clouds cross my view
passing hurts and pleasures,
blue on white on white on blue.
'till black has broken through.
I dreamt that it
finally died last night,
that it was truly over.
Waves of guilt and fear
to carry me away.
Until I could no longer see
that place I started from
and I no longer knew
the place I was headed to.
Now, I gather stones
for the tomb,
while with wilful eyes
study my peers.
Lips pursed tight...
they have closed their hearts,
closed up tight to my falling tears.
Yes, it is I,
it is me I cry,
feeling condemned
by the unspoken lie.
A lie to weigh heavy
on my bent back body.
Heavy as the Christ's cross,
responsible for all souls lost.
Then I stumble and I fall,
as I carry my burden upward
to Golgotha of the Skull.
If to think is to act
then burning after the crash,
the fire's orange glow
brings forth the desire to let go.
Letting go,
why does it have to be so
hard to come by.
Leaving me to feel
so hard done by.
A selfish act,
done not from class,
no more from strength
than from some weakness.
An action out of chaos
in the absence of bliss.
The Shadowland,
where grief clings
to my name
and to their person.
Asking of today
to stride with a limp,
and of yesterday
to crawl and beg.
Forgiveness
would be the task at hand.
A ticket for
some far and
distant shore,
safe passage away
from Shadowland.
Bent, but unbroken,
while the pain of its death runs deep.
Not until
hatred is spent
and words of kindness
are spoken,
will forgiveness be complete.
Only one way to forgive,
that would be completely.
Only one way to live,
that would be completely.
Anything else
misses the mark,
comes from the head
and not from the heart.
And so, it remains
that for me to be free,
I cross the threshold of forgiveness
standing ready to turn the key.
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