This is a metaphor of my own life. WARNING. IT IS LONG. I don't expect anyone to read it.
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A shadow claws up your skin tonight.
Combing each wrinkle with heightened delight.
Each pin ***** tendril sends an ecstatic
amount of confusion into your mind.
And you wonder...
If fortune was true... then what of the man
who came in a storm, while before him ran
an energy source he named Midnight Eve
who caused him to rise. To fall. To believe.
For while he was nothing, with time left to squander
his feet were too restless, for him to just wander.
Though the dark of the sky, clouded his eyes
and the tower above which rose through the skies
set a sample of truth which was hard to ignore.
A sample of face. A chime sounding core
which left behind music, friendship and charm
and fought against peace to cause some self harm.
Yes he strove by the day. Every minute and hour,
possessed by a height, a young, dying flower
which in truth was a game to confuse and deceive him
but he knew, he foretold, and refused to believe in
a whelp made of feathers, claws and two wings.
Meant to defy him, and rip hearts of kings.
But moved onward, further, forgetting her name.
He played his own style. He played his own game.
He moved on...
He had a hand in throwing down the tower.
Each step he took, deprived it of it's power
til at the last he looked back at the sky
and saw a sight his mind could not defy.
For in his huge desire just to escape,
and maybe soon his mind would not be *****,
the blackened sky produced a single light
which held his gaze forever from that night.
That light beheld the shadow on his brow
and brightened up the sky, still up til now.
The God made structure fell, to dust it crumbled.
And he was free, so onward he stumbled.
Time carries on...
Oh Midnight Eve, he longs to see
your dark shod eyes revived.
For in those pools, he is a fool,
a piece of life denied.
He met a God, of light and waste
who tried to snare his bell.
He picked her up and tossed her off
the world and so she fell.
Wanderer returns:
While he travelled he often stopped
for rest. On one such occasion, as
he slept, he was visited by a beast
claiming to be a friend. This beast
gave him wings and power and
disappeared into thin air.
The wings were snares. The power
was contradictory to true strength
and offered him only chains and
lack of hope.
The sun sets:
Winter has fallen,
yet he must find her, his light
before she moves on.
Always she's two steps.
And no matter how he runs...
he never sees her.
The truth and an end:
He caught her once, peering at him
through a different reality A sphere he
could never perceive.
He clove at that rounded ball,
impossibility chipping his wings,
stripping his power, yet always
she smiled at his efforts, love in
her eyes.
It drove him crazy with desire, to
see sadness within those beautiful
slanted eyes, and with his last bit of
strength he forced his hand into
another world, touching for a second
her beautiful cheek.
Then he was gone... and she was alone
again. She looked at his gravestone,
and with her love, inscribed it with
his own heart...
HERE LIES DISTANT WANDERER
WHO TRAVELLED TIME AND SPACE
TO FIND HIS MIDNIGHT EVE.
