Tension - April 1999


Conceived in the whispers of the night
aching bones and sore muscles tell of 
this ultra spoken grabble.

Filtering images and shadows to make
it whole again. Asking only of which way to 
go, not which way to ensue

The eyes of the dark focus in on me 
only to discover the drifter I have made
and the soul I will bother. 

Both understand and yet not quite the 
innocense and luster not being there even 
raised an eye.  

Fierce belongings of one once there but 
now lost. Powerless against everything 
and clueless as to what that is, or was.

Beings fighting so hard to forget and move 
on not freeing themselves or zeroing in on
closure. Single seconds always count the most,
and hours seem to not count at all. 

Be known and be loved by yourself letting 
life itself be the fruition of your days.