I guess these years are no more than a dream, lost within a memory. A tired rendition of truth and lies. Oh to see now the people who have scorned me, whom have envied me, and who still prick me as the thorns on a rose. At their languished beauty I peer, into the depths of the venom that has poisoned them. I weep for their souls. Let their indentured servitude yoke them like oxen to pull and push this tower of freedom to the ground. I ask only this, release me, release me so I may turn this pain to ash and my body to dust.
To strive on in these times are to ask a fish to fly. The body may be whole but the spirit and mind have broke. The immensity of the colossal beast, ever Hungry, ever needing to take more, more, more. How can one continue when that back is tight and the stomach is thin. The once grand mansion no more than a filthy shack meant for swine. To toil in the dust is no fit end for any beast to live. So sheltered in their shallow grave to grovel and beg at the hands of the master. Just one more for me you say another to keep you eager! one more for me you say tomorrow I'll work harder. Hope they are generous this year. I ask release me, release me, that I may turn this pain to ash and this body to dust.
The loss does weigh heavy on my soul, To see the life snuffed out like a candle in a storm. My candle I hold close to protect from the gale. My candle I hold in my heart for the flame of love is a fleeting things in these times, In a time when the matters of materials matter more than the heart. To give your heart is the greatest sacrifice one can make and the only one I can accept. I ask again release me, release me, so that my pain may become ash and my body dust. let my broken spirit rise. That I may find peace and in my peace, may my soul know freedom.
Oh freedom what joyous note of melancholy you play on the heartstrings. The song that has never been found or always been lost. Drifting, swaying to each eddy and swirl of time. Never quite forgotten, but the melody can never match the beat. Reminiscent of the rhythm of a heart chasing the music of the night, harmony in discord. this fleeting moment of divinity, asks much responsibility which belongs to all. hitherto I see shadows clinging to the last dying flicker of their flame entombed in the chains of circumstance. Hope, the last flicker of life the reason that the shadows hold so dear to this mimicry of living.
How does one separate the truth from the lies in an age of deceit. Can one forestall their diminished in the ever-deepening shadow of despair or has hope doomed us to this fate, waiting for the ax to finally fall with its killing stroke to snuff out our flame. How does one stay sane? With their ever impending destruction. Does one simply become too cold to care? To callous and selfish drugged with the sweet whispers of myself broadcast on open air twenty four seven? Sensationalized violence and false idols in the shape of movie stars and rock and roll heroes . Nothing more than walking corpses. Feeding off the corrosive words of zealous sycophants to distract us from the real lords. As they laugh and play on the backs of the downtrodden throwing scraps here and there for appearance. I say release them so that their deeds may become ash and their legacies dust. So callous so selfish so uncompassionate. Stand and watch as we throw our ancestors legacy to the ground. Stand and watch as we throw our children to the hungry hounds.
Is it just an oscillation of the human frequency? That we must rise and fall. Like a wave crashing against the rocky shore. Then gently soothingly guided by the moon pulled back to the sea to reconnect and find the truth again, or is our moon gone is this the last we'll see of the tide bringing us home? I still hold my candle close, but I fear the coming crashing wave and hold no hope the moon will carry me home. Any more than the crashing wave will leave my family and I unscathed. Small thing a life preserver best be finding one soon. Will it do will a small inflatable raft be enough? Held together with nothing more than the sinew of the heart and given life with the air of our lungs. Against a crashing wall of tears and ignorance. My flame in this gale well protected but far from immortal. I fear for the weak and the lame the slow and the ignorant. Those who will not learn or just plainly choose not to. They will be the last to fall. For tyranny to prevail the people must remain asleep. Those who sleep find cold comfort in the knowledge of there protection. for now.
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