It was the year of Great War, a year one might call an abyss in time. In those outlying shades of the world, a sudden bringing of ancient and modern came into absolute contact. There was born a child, in those bitter, mortal cold shores. A child who later became caring yet blind by his rage. A broken child of fragile and responsive organisation. Of discomfort, positive pain and ultimate injury. He was the child of legends, legends ever heard by rustic men.
On this silent night, my whispers, they echo,
Splitting the chaos of solitude.
The chill of late November night,
Bolstered with confessions,
Rip apart the music of peace.
My words betrayed me today,
It seems, as of late,
They have found their own voice,
Their own wit,
Their own bitterness.
My words are consuming my whole being.
In those words,
I’ve finally found the voice,
Which is truly mine.
My iron lady,
My metallic lady,
I’ll abandon my soul for you, my love.
I’ll scream, I’ll breathe the agony.
The sound of existence,
Of essence of life,
Airy spirits of harmony touch among the shadows.
In stillness of time paused
In moment that we rejoiced
On the mountain of cold tears
We faded into each other.
In the moonless darkness of death
In the water of the soul that men breathe
Among the shades of evening that they seek
Before the moment of echo
Under the whispers of question
In the air of discord, the answers faded
In that moment we parted.
The old reason escaped.
Just the thought of crossing the question
And we merged again.
In the air of desire the memories sleep,
Beside the river of winter,
Beyond the moment of time,
In the stillness of harmony,
On an abandoned shore,
In a restless silent night,
Beneath the surface of shivering skin.
In silence do I make confessions that chaos creates,
A confession whose echo reverberates in every thing I touch.
My demons have run awild and the devil is here to collect.
Run away little boy.
Run away, alone, with devouring tears.
The mountain of secrets I hid within has finally crumbled down.
With bloody eyes I will witness the ashes of burnt leaves,
The leaves of secrets.
Run away little boy,
From one hell to another.
My amorphous one,
My inhabited soul,
Covered with veil of my love,
Let me etch my existence into your dreams,
For I’m yours
And you’re mine.
In every breath,
I’m a man of words,
They do not fade,
They are eternal,
As eternal as our love.
They aren’t far from reality,
They are the beautiful reality,
The unbelievable reality
That you ignite in me.
Of these eternal words.
In stones of melting reality,
Lay the foundation
Just the random seeds,
Planted deep within the soil of me.
Often remain silent, yet always conscious,
Between the pages of my thought process.
Give me music with little notes and clefs,
To be played when life strikes certain keys.
Well, dear readers, just like my last post “The Dying Land” this time also, I’m going to use the daily prompt and the weekly photo challenge to create another post. This time it’s a poem.
The Eternal Wait
In the depth,
Of the scream of every leaf,
Through strangled breaths,
If only we could soothe this motionless chaos,
if only we could collect the mist of memories forgotten.