Saturday, April 10, 2010

As They Shone

Many things flow past
And the magic becomes blind
Many trees grow fast
And the others I must find

I’m holy enough not to believe

I’m wounded enough to feel
I’m broken enough not to grieve
I’m honest enough to steal

In the city they had a feast

In the forest the hunt began
By the river, they killed a beast
By the church, they killed a man

I’ve seen portraits of the dead

And I’ve seen statues with frozen eyes
People eat gold, people sell bread
As flowers keep burning in the skies

This place seems so sacred

Here worship stands tall
And there he stands – Hatred
By the window of the hall

Tears were banned

By a king, long long ago
And fires were fanned
By the ones who did not go

The bleeding God of the Valley

Throb through me, now and then
That same blood in this alley
Runs thick and blue, down the drain

I had seen my pale green Mother

Taking the morning train
And the next time the clouds gather
I’ll tell them not to rain

The sun is shining bright above

I see the bells, I hear them toll
Life and Death had made their love
Time was born in a the bullet-hole

Twelve mighty chieftains of twelve mighty tribes

Sat somber and grave on twelve mighty thrones
By the twelve stars they swore to defend our lives
But the stars were dead, I could see their bones

There lives a fairy of the night

She’ll grant me sixteen boons
And the old toad – he looks so bright
As he hops along the sixteen moons

I can trust you in the dark

If you don’t read these letters
In my eyes there’s a spark
Don’t trust me, trust my fetters

Perhaps a time will come

When no words shall cost enough
Perhaps the chords will strum
But beware, for these roads are rough

By the moonlight I saw the march

Of all the moons that had drowned
I saw the bridges, I saw their arch,
I saw those infants who were crowned

He was gagged in a chamber

By a beast with one horn
And by the end of December
God and Snow were reborn

I am sad and hence I rejoice

Symmetries and Cemeteries of the clock
The little boy had lost his voice
And became a flower beneath the rock

There comes a time when the music stops

And out in the cold the light shall fade
The rivers have died, and so have the crops
The purple gown has a crimson shade

This is where these whispers end

I’m sick and tired of my face
Forgive me, dearest friend
These words were lies. I confess

1 comment:

Quintessence Of Illusion said...

magical,mystical,enchanting....a glimpse of dreams and reality all at a time.......amazing as usual