Flesh and bloods and clattering cries, the fear between my toes soaking.

I stood ajar, no longer felt the pain. It drenched nowhere seen, or perhaps I just forgot how it seemed.

For the world were full of sinners, for preventing you to sin. That was how much I sacrificed.

For I may deliever you from evil, for how much love I've treasured then. I solemnly prayed.

I prayed as you were unborn today.

The poets are too grim.
Too somber, too solemn.
Too serious for a world
That's bound to spit them out.
Programmed for defeat,
With their pessimistic vision
And their bouts with mental illness,
And the way they cut the gristle
From the bone of life.
Exposing the bare bones of it all.
They spend their whole lives sawing away,
Exposing the raw truth,
Digging down to the bone,
Living by the razor's edge,
And they take the little meat
They've collected
And they examine it -
For it is this kind of stuff
That entire empires are built upon,
Entire lives are shaped by.
It is this that the rest hungrily consume,
Piece by piece,
And they chuck away the bone.

I hear the rumbling of a distant train
the steady pulse makes its way up the mountain
through the leafless trees
and dense mist of an oncoming thought
but it does not come closer
only passes and fades to still
calm time
the large blackbirds search along the blanketed white hills
but there is little to feed upon
and I sense defeat as they pull their wings tighter
against the wind
the days are cold this high
and the nights are unforgiving
one bird leaves the limb
landing upon my window ledge
peers through the glass and catches my eye
quickly learning that he will find no solace
here

A monumental solemn soul
one golem told an untold legacy.
In need of change
I stay intact.

An island drove all shores
aback.
And the mountain spoke
no more.

The seeds of rage
they sway intact.