Untitled
What if the wax on the candle just disappeared in thin air,
disintegrated into the murky ground.
no evidence of the candle flickering,let alone burning,evaporating its existence.
wat if the rose just rised as a wilted one?
no scarlet red,no luster in its beauty?
just there to behold a sympathetic glance from the o thers beyond our midst.
Wat if God was knocking on the door,but the turmoil from materialism just would barge thru refraining u from listening?
wat if we were numb to the sense of a hint of affction because our harden heart are froxen to any compassion whatsoever?just fell and broke to pieces uncounted for,put back to gether intact wit disordered tape and its once fullness is now withered and lowly.
wat if we slept wit our eyes open,no peace or tranquility,but disruption no cure of wat seems to b hopelessness in our days of numbered glory.
but here we r,standing by the chained gates and we knock,wewe thump on the shains,but do theyl istwe thump on the shains,but do theyl isten?we'll never know?do theyl isten,they won't show?
will they ever c me?
will they ever hear me?
will they ever know me?
but here i am,knocking on the gate.
girl by the river
Sh'e lowly and defeated by a withered tree of brokeness,
wat she grasps,seems ot escape and linger out of her fingers.
Her scent seems liek poison with hints of mystic dust in the air.
Her eyes once full of wonder,now tear stricken with shame.
Size of a clenched fist,so strong yet so weary.
comfort cushions it from all pain and fury.
burdens that eat and gnaw hungrily at her flesh,
once ripe and once pure once happy and fresh.
Now left at the mercy of the elders beyond,
by a river to cry and fill up its banks,by a river to c her reflection to know she's still existent.
Forgotten as a mere memory to b rotting away into the abyss of a cold night.
she yells and she screams "the sky is falling".
Noone pays heed for they no wiser to pay any heed watsever to her.she's nothing how's she know?
She screams ,she moans but who has time to care?
she cries and she yearns for a life of sunrise and flare.
She desires and pleads for a life other than her own
but who are u t pity,wh or u to frown?
it's not yr fault she's not content and that she's feeling down.
Don't bother now ,i tell u loved one,don't wasted a shedded tear.
for she's merely just the girl by the river wh olives in anger and fear.
2006-11-30
11:35:10
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