And All The Saints Were Dead

 
They left as dusk fell
but found no seclusion in
the darkness
because the electric lights
filled up the emptiness
and left them dazed, unaware
of the stars gleaming far above
their beds


Who knew
that the time would come
when we might fall down to our knees
praying softly to the
ghosts and spirits of this
degenerated world


Did we find redemption in those whispered
secrets, passing over
the Underworld


They left as the dawn approached
leaving dust behind
and entrails
scattered over crumbling pavement
with teardrops on their fingertips,
sweeping
against the fragile skin of
      sedementary mindscapes


I only wished for something less than
what I saw, what I felt as
the hands were turned
back and molded into
unrelenting sorrows


Were yesterdays eating at those broken bones?

In places where only I had feared to tread, we held
candles in the moonlight, with dim lit eyes and
upturned faces, the cold wind
biting against flesh, burrowing deep
        into our spirits


I felt the smoke like liquid ash,
 turning and unfurling,
with simple strokes and gestures
You led me
    into the pasture, your milky skin bathed
with romance and moon kissed embellishments


Yes, they left us as the world fell
down into the depths
      of uncertainty
cruel and apathetic
to the burning woes
and curtained echoes


Their tears dropped into the sand leaving
hollow imprints for us to
ponder


Once again, we'll find that we truly are
alone
and they have left us to our sins