A Thought

Every dark hour has a reason

Understanding is our choice
Accepting is our challenge

Angel Fire

Have you ever believed you met an angel?
It was something just like that...
But it was a devil.

As a matter of fact, it was several devils.

This is that story...

Assaulted by promises of good time past,
Something no mortal can deny,
We followed the tail of an undetermined clan.
And yes, more than one easily got dragged.

Eaten, bitten and weakened,
The night drained away our sorrows.
Transformed into what the embrace of darkness wished,
We stalked the shadows, we danced the rhythms.
But most importantly, we drank our echoes.

Now we hold another truth.
One so different from the first.

Just like when you meet that damned angel,
Who turned out to be nothing but a sweet devil.

Walls of Time and Red Wounds

To break through this wall,
Every try, every breath,
Broken glare by glare.

Damned indifferent stare, looking down.

Doing that which breaks the most.
Doing that which breaks the host.

Think should tell the truth,
Far less painful from this side.
Shadowed mercy, never thanked for.

No.
No demon could deny.
It's sakki that flows,
The sense that runs.

Living cursed with your presence.
It will be my burden to bear.

No easy way to explain,
To undo the believes laid on.
The wait fell down chasing love.

Crashing violently...
Into my life...
Out of my life...

Now it's moving me along,
Fading away the shade of lost kingdoms.

What I want and what can happen
Will not be the same.
So acceptance is the only choice time will bring.

Time and time.
More time.

When will the clock wake up,
And realize that it goes too fast for us all.

Never too fast to escape your look, though.
Never too slow to make it go away quick enough.

Trapped between times of time.

When will the clock wake up...
When will this wall fall down...

Only time knows...

No Hope Inside the Jar (Dancing Bones)

Everyday again around the same old end.
Round and round walking, running, facing.

The outside seems so empty from within,
So square, so rigid.

But this jar is more than closed,
And no air seem come for most
Of those who venture share a glimpse.

So deny me, and this is where I end.

Inside the jar... inside the glass.

To see but not to touch or smell.
To hear but not to taste or care.

Inside the glass, inside the jar.

We go round the bottom.
Never ending.

Just like bottles.
Just like bones.
Just like bad old rum.

Rise Again

How many times must one fall to understand,
Life has a way of driving even patient men wild...

So again I rise...

Hanging on to what I have,
For it is the only thing left I can do...