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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Death · #1037738
Searching for the truth...
Week 30, 2nd Place ~ "Invalid Item"  Open in new Window. by A Guest Visitor




Eternal Light

Weep not my life a single tear,
I shed my past without a fear.
I care not for this life on earth
Of listless joy and callous mirth.
Where crusted smiles numb minds so bold,
So bound by rules, naught to unfold.

A blind man staggers on his way
To praise base threads of live decay,
That linger ‘round the eternal gate,
So plagued by thoughts of furtive hate.
Where fools seek calm amidst the storm,
I have no wish to see the morn’.

The jaded rims of sightless minds.
The youth of young left far behind.
Without a hope, no one to share
The blistering pain, the fiery glare
Of smouldering festive gallantry.
For whose right is it to be free?
To claim this prize for those who’ve died,
To gain entry to heaven's side,
To stand on trodden lives so dead,
And drink deep words our Lord has said.

Our saviour, have we him to thank,
Our lives, cast out upon the bank
Of Thames, the cultured radiant King.
Yes, unto our Saint we sing.
Our hallowed cries unite once more,
To wash against its littered shore.
Across the golden bridge they tread,
These senseless shells have long been dead.

Now from the mists the truth doth rise,
The truth that speaks of our demise.
The sirens call, their bodies clad
With festering skulls flung o’er their back.
The screams resound, the pain, the fire
Of fallen wings upon the pyre.
The choking, blazing smoke, the cries...
This is the truth, our bleak demise.

The light now wanes, and by my feet
The writhing bodies sink to meet
The waiting tomb inside this crust,
Where frozen lives, from stone to dust,
Entwine with all that dwells below,
In futile graves where demons grow,
And feed upon the helpless child,
Devouring those so reconciled.

They wait in dusk, in sordid gloom.
Above them fades the chastened moon.
The scent of death, the light has won,
The sacrilege of life now done.

The endless chasm starts to fade.
Amongst the vestiges I wade.
My mind I’ve closed from this grim sight.
I turn from the believer’s plight.
My thoughts soar o’er this hellish land,
Where lives will fade like desert sand.
There’s nothing here, below the sky
To suffocate my silent cry.

So let me pass thro’ to the night
Of nameless souls and righteous sight,
Without the laws of sacred truth,
For I have seen the real truth,
There, I will stay, forever free,
Alone to rest, alone with me.

For now amongst the stars I lie,
My life is dead, now let me die.

© Copyright 2005 Swallowsong (swallowsong at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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