Sunday, April 7, 2013

Stains On Time's Fabric

For every lie that was ever told
I am the liar
Every betrayal committed
I am the betrayer
For every child that grows up right
I am the one that went wrong
For every wound ever created
I am the salt and the blade that slices

For every good dream
I am the nightmare
For every life full of potential
I am the disappointment
For everyone pressed by the weight of the world
I am the encircling chains
To those who would look on me and smile
They look at me and weep

Metal working metal
Stone against stone
Friction between grinding stone
Parts of me may be hollowed out
Torn from the route and broken
But parts of you do the same

Why were we made as rough, unworked symetry?
Why so rough-hewn for our wear?
Tied down to the very alters we ourselves build?
Iron can blunt iron for use
But sharpen it for war
A war of flesh against flesh
Spirit against spirit
Amidst the rain of self-deceipt

Hunter and hunted
Protector and defiler
We take the spoils of our entropic wars
Leave our own abandoned behind
Carcasses of what once we were
Donning new faces to characterize the new

Fine, fine are the beats of that elusive drum
Pounding somewhere far away, yet deep within
Smooth that allows our eyes repose
Yet throbs against the very nerves of our shame

Nerve and sinew
Vein and bone
Spirit and light
Darkness and shadow
Are we wraiths of ourselves
Or spirits made of light?
Bodies of senseless regret
Or beings of renewal and life?

There are times we cannot help but feel
We are the sodden tea at the bottom of a cup
The broken branches of a once-blossoming tree
The crackling remnants of once-vibrant leaves
 
 

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