Now falls the cast at the tips of steel
Nude to Roland are the flowers
Thinnies are reaping, to weep away the bewitching hours
Sowing confusion amidst clarity and truth
The darkened tower is no longer sleeping
Blades are turned to petals before the pacifist flower
To right the night, Roland alone must weild the power
For he alone knows the chyme of the rightful hour
Before the blade, the unthorned roses cower
With each offering, pulled closer into the aura of the pacifist flower

We are granted in what has from you been asked
Rain drops and blackend eyes meet my gaze in steady poise
A smile plays in the corner,
Soft lips hold nothing over black steady gaze
Enjoy the silence.....
I look openly upon the heavens
The wind howls, searching for the face of the moon
Always looking to the ground
Finding me, haunting my thought
She is my comfort. From her black solace She looks down
upon the dark world below her.

Laughter is not possible now
I have fallen into a false image
Like the shadow caught in the light of a passing lantern
I am the dog sleeping under the dirt
Hoping it will be warm
I am the death that wishes to be life
I am alone......
I am strength, solidity. I give help, I am love
I am lonely........
I am tormented by the envy of others
And in the rejection of that envy
Find sadness in the corruption of that understanding
Like the absent child who seeks and wonders
I am the bird above, flying alone in an empty sky
Headlong into the beginning rain

Shadows are not the place for thee
I cast ye out, for creatures such as you should
not linger in shadows meant for others.
But what of those in black and white
The assailant is dark, against a green wall
The shadows are black, as are the attackers shoes
Continuity is met in forms of darkness,
Channels that shall let you through them in shadow,
Fly through them as mist.
Roses shall grow in my path,
Adorning me. The wind howls,
I retrace my steps and disappear.....

-Inclination-

Drama

The Stage was set
On this night, as on many before
They came walking
To observe, to witness again from the cliff
The noisy chaos and confusion of the village, the city
There they stood silent, tranquil, expressionless
Viewing the miserable human condition down below

On this star-filled night, they stood unnoticed
Observing down below, this one chapter of humanity
This one slice of existence as few do
Becalmed by a joyful resilience, they stood silent
And watched the degradation, the clamoring disorder below
The drama was there

With an unspoken passion for progress, for change
They stood silent, expressionless
Knowing the futility of the impassioned verbal
Pacified by the concessions to history, to destiny
Aware of how long it would take for the rancid disorder
and stagnation to run its course

On this night, as on many before
They had come to observe what they could not live with
To witness, at a distance, the impiety and deception
The alcoholic decadence and disharmony
Knowing too well how long it would take for mankind
to shut up and begin to think

With only a faint breeze and the sound of crickets to accompany,
They paused to reaffirm their communion with the quantum Spirit
With more to say than any volume could hold
They took one last, long look and then saying nothing
Turned and strode back to their humble, wooded homes
Aware of how long it would be until mankind
would discover, rediscover himself, his creator

As they disappeared into the darkened woods
A chilling ambiance descended onto the scene
As if one brief, fleeting moment from the future had been summoned
As if one distant niche had lost its way in time
From below the cliff, you could almost hear the bartender's final admonition

Last call for Silence
Last call for Silence
Last call was for Silence

- ZenRaven -

The Writer is essential a polarized being. From this polarity, this interplay of opposites comes an energy. From this energy comes literature.

Delerium

Copyright@Fathomlight Music, 2001