The internal struggle. |
A blue-grey haze That doesn't exist Clings to the air That surrounds a house A house residing in the forest Down a not-so-clear path A path from anywhere Inside the house are two beings One demon, one angel Each with a broken wing Each wanting the other's wing They, the demon and angel, dine together One drinking bitter nectre The other sipping a soothing acid From across the table There come no silent words But light comes in through the window From an invisible sky Covered by trees But the light gives no warmth Just as the darkness takes no mind There is only one bed In a room upstairs But niether sleeps For fear that the other Will strike in slumber Sleep probably wouldn't end the pain anyway Nor would it end the game For the victor gets the fruit The fruit is desired By all who see it But only two gaze upon it One demon, one angel But it remains out of reach And niether will ever attain With only one wing The single fruit hangs from the trees Above the bed of roses Roses that never bleed red Nor a rainbow of songs For a broken heart Inside the house Whispers come from the basement Bearing molevolent words For a benevolent cause Just like the attic Which cries innocent tears For a guilty conscience The attic contains a mirror While the basement holds a grave The mirror bears no reflection And the grave cradles no body Only once the grave has been filled And sorrowless glass leaves fall Will one's reflection be revealed A bird can be heard singing From somewhere not so far away But its song stirs no emotion Just as its eggs hold no hope for new life The bird rattles to a conclusion And the trees' symphony of silence Provolks only one thought Whose life does this epilogue fallow? Vines wind from the ground And consume the house The sands of time Reclaiming the life That it gave in grace Another cycle completed But it all will begin again In a house residing in the forest Down a not so clear path A path from anywhere |