My blood sings to me for sweet release
Perhaps then I might find some peace
From the hellish cacophony, this ringing in my ears
Sullen wasted tears grip with firm solitude to the stubble
Of this wind worn face I wear
Tearing through avenues of comforts once known
Embraces half remembered
I let loose a choked scream
This dream has not ended, only just begun
Perhaps I have stared too long at the midnight sun
Henceforth blind to the light in your eyes
Or the soft linger of your touch...
     ...the telephone rings and my heart quakes in the fear
that it is not you
In my moment of indecision, I miss my grip
and you slip into the darkened maze of wires...
"If you would like to make a call, please hang up..."
My emotional hang-ups are not yours to bear
So wondering why I bother to care
I gently lay the phone on the hook, with a single look
And pray for you to call again.
This night preys on me with entaloned eyes and embalmed winds
Stagnant and reeking of stale earth
And moldering flesh kept in the interim for the resurrection
I have lost that connection, oh so long ago
Whilst the wind howled and the seeds bore clouds
Impregnated with winter's seed
We performed deeds best left forgotten
Causing the cancer to grow and our souls turned dark and rotted
Leaving the least of us entombed with tarnished halos of midnight light
Living it over and over and over again
Running the sacred halls of sleep
In the silent moments of these visions
As I suffer their derisions
I pray for a savior
Perhaps and angel with broken wings
Who screams in the darkness as do I
Oh where might this sweet salvation be
As they lead me to the hangman's tree
Where the infinite's judge might deem my fate
Is she lost in her own private hell
Weeping at the tolling bells
And wondering with mournful remorse
As the final notes peel out
Across unseen valleys and canyons and glades
Is this my funeral pyre, or have I been saved?
I've broken down walls that were built up
From ten-thousand years of torment and tears
Not to mention ten-thousand fears
All unreconciled
And yes, my child, with the twilight filled eyes
I'm laying bricks again
Hidden away in my burnt out temples
I can make homage and sacrificial rites
To this blind hierarchy
That chance would have me call my own
Someday I might find
In this quest for my utopia
My nirvana
Another set upon the wayward path
But until that time comes
As strangers we came, loved
As strangers we part
Into our inky encampments
To continue different sagas under twin moons

June 28, 1994