I once thought music a joy of life,Whose power has kept us ever fresh,By polishing heavy chains,That we ourselves have laid,And to sweet memories shackled. Rather, it is a key,To a dark place within,That unwilling hands cannot help but turn,Wherein we find hostage youth;To whom we have forbidden death,And through great pain, left to witness,Better… Continue reading The Sound of Life in Masquerade
I've sat through the years, Who tormented at their leisure, My life I was too proud to end, Until spite came to lure me, And offer ideas of creation, That I alone would hear spoken, Soon after which came a day, Where I would ordain myself - a god: Knowing by heart, conception, Until… Continue reading Phantasy
As I make my song, I find it answered from below, And in peculiar ways I'd like to know, So down through the green and black, I fly, Twixt the shaded realms of time, Where ages have manifest, As strands and fur, Amidst my sweet pine friends, Until at the source I arrive, To find… Continue reading The Birds Must Pity Us
Between day and night, Where life and death approach, Is a realm within the twilight, That suspends all but the perfect, Amidst a purple light, Which is both warm and cold, Knowing equal pain, and delight, For what can begin, Must also end.
The rain returns To serenade me, As I sit amidst a drought, Of life, Whose roots dig desperately To the past, Wherein the scent of perfect days Is returned from desiccation, By simple droplets; Each a looking glass, Into avenues I long to walk again.