VOICES
When I was a child
I once read somewhere
That the ancients believed
All things hold a spirit
And sometimes it seems
In my darkest of hours
I can hear them speaking
Like a comforting friend
When the wind softly whispers
“Don’t be afraid”
And the rain sharply counsels
“You’re not alone”
And the sea slowly murmurs
“Try to forget”
And the earth sweetly urges
“This too will pass”
X-RAY
There’s a diamond in your heart
Its brilliance buried in shadows
From ten thousand lonely nights
And there’s a rose in your soul
Caught in a web of weeds
Nourished by a poisoned river
And there’s a star in your gut
Stuck in a black cage
For a gawking realm of mannequins
And there’s a child in your mind
Who has dreams that never end
Telling of the end of dreams
ASHES
A last goodbye, a final embrace.
A eulogised kiss at the funeral
Of love. A sanctified bed, a coffin,
A grave. Lined with white silk,
White lilies, white tears. A letter,
An obituary. A valentine, an epitaph.
A passion cremated and scattered
In the wind. A passage of time,
A slow forgetting. A weathered
Memory that haunts me no more.
When I was a child
I once read somewhere
That the ancients believed
All things hold a spirit
And sometimes it seems
In my darkest of hours
I can hear them speaking
Like a comforting friend
When the wind softly whispers
“Don’t be afraid”
And the rain sharply counsels
“You’re not alone”
And the sea slowly murmurs
“Try to forget”
And the earth sweetly urges
“This too will pass”
X-RAY
There’s a diamond in your heart
Its brilliance buried in shadows
From ten thousand lonely nights
And there’s a rose in your soul
Caught in a web of weeds
Nourished by a poisoned river
And there’s a star in your gut
Stuck in a black cage
For a gawking realm of mannequins
And there’s a child in your mind
Who has dreams that never end
Telling of the end of dreams
ASHES
A last goodbye, a final embrace.
A eulogised kiss at the funeral
Of love. A sanctified bed, a coffin,
A grave. Lined with white silk,
White lilies, white tears. A letter,
An obituary. A valentine, an epitaph.
A passion cremated and scattered
In the wind. A passage of time,
A slow forgetting. A weathered
Memory that haunts me no more.
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