Prayers at the End for the New Beginning – day 201

I can see
Off in the distance
A few birds fluttering
Along on the icy winter sky-bridge.
The air tastes of venom
With an ounce of liquid despair.

All that I can accomplish is to stare
Blankly out the glass portal in this
Brick laid prison on the yard.

And all that I can grasp is the
Weakness in my heart.
Silently I’ll murmur quick prayers
For strength to make it through the day.

Way off to the left I can see
Modern ingenuity shaking at the knees.
With a vile smile lighting up its cheek
It bellows lies across the airwaves.
The truth lays lifeless in silent
Undertones that try to break through
The framework of the great firewall.

All I can grasp
Is what’s a part of the final abyss
Of not knowing where we’ll be tomorrow.
I’ll mutter silent prayers
For foresight to see through the fog.

Along the skyline just below the sun
The iron statues commemorating 19th century progress
Get melted down to the basic concepts
That mean nothing to 21st century politics.
And when the past, future, and present do collide
Nothing will seem different anymore.
It’s always been the same chess game
With different kings and queens and more machinery.

All that I’ll ever be able to grasp
Is the monotony of this;
Everything has never really changed.
And I’ll cry out in despair little silent prayers
Begging for a chance to break the pattern
To rescue us all from the jaws of defeat.

I can feel the gales nipping at my neck,
It’s piercing blaze ripping away my skin.
Distorting me further than before
Hiding me away from the rest of the world
Taking everything away from me.
I’m left to do without a voice to cry out and say,

“Where were you when the world fell apart?”

And all I’ll be left to do
Is think about my past
And write out little silent prayers
that I’ll die before we lose our ground
And I hope that these letters will be found.

From my grave I can still feel the creeping cold
The anger of the world seeping down
Through the dirt.
I still witness every day the continued decline
Of society and the thinking mind.

The crossroads cross between
The unconscious and the conscious.
Filtering away the known
and the extraordinary,
and when the leafless trees
In the wake of the freeze finally free
The world of death.
They’ll fight and grow colors
By reversing the occurrences of the fall
And a renaissance leeches forth
From the bosom of man.
Creating a new future out of the ashes
Of destruction.
Forever to repeat cycles of
The end and the beginning again.

Destruction is another form of creation.
At the end of one is the start of another.
And in a thousand years time we will be
Just where we were now.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: