Saturday, April 19, 2008
A woman has no shadow.
An eagle is w/out sin.
Born from dirt & stone
we dance with tears in our eyes
& love w/ hate in our hearts.
Bewildered by the bewildered
living only for fear
pointing guns at our heads
& then softly handing them to our children.
We deserve to die.
Creating our own perfect illusions
suffering the lie of reality
dampened by the folly of our "dreams"
Each new dawn
a portrait of our promise...
A demon of divinity
an angel of anguish
questioning the relevancy
of our unseen souls.
We only know what we touch.
The conception of it being , or feeling
what is good or somehow "right"
opposed to the strangeness of concluding
that it is not.
Knowledge yes, is deception,
yet that deception is only known
(I have no more questions)
Drowned by the blood of our failures
& still we reach for the impossible
still we seek to solve
the mystery of the obvious.
The God Lives.
The stranger within our eyes
We are the soul.
Each, a piece of the wisdom
Each, a piece of what is forever
yet there is only the darkness to comfort us
only the frail touch of indecision to shelter us.
We never change.
We merely adjust to the progression of our time,
& of our keepers child like tampering.
Can it all be so elusive as to not even wonder why?
I have, no more questions.