May all these lost souls go to heaven
II am an aventriloquist marionette.
Someone speak my words
and lead my body whereever it goes.
On my fateful journey
I seldom feel safe.
II
You are a warstruck child.
They fight over your time,
throwing hand grenades, tanks.
Despite all the attention
all you long for is peace and tranquility.
III
He is a suspicion.
In his body jealousy whispers
cruel, grey words.
The soul finds no mercy,
in his quiet life of paranoia.
IV
She is a flickering light.
Lust flames in passion-coloured eyes,
bright and admirable.
In her loneliness she cries herself
to sleep every night.
V
It is the loss.
The bittersweet loss
for all that ever were.
The tremendous pain
in all the beauty that were.
VI
It is the need.
The seductive and tempting,
always looking for restlessness.
The dangerous and the beauty
in all which are not.
VII
We are the fragile.
The lonelybound in the mass
who never reaches themselves.
In the desperate search
we only find ourselves.
VIII
You are the amiable.
The harmonious and calm
who search for the depth in yourself.
The helping who can,
since they are satisfied with the knowledge.
IX
They are we.
All the lost.
All the safe.
May we find the balance
in the community that contains us.
Poetry by Daybreaker
Read 405 times
Written on 2006-01-05 at 00:01
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