My sympathy to the broken
Deflected by inhumanity we cast the dice.
I watch them burn - the children and saints.
There is a paper I hold, and it spells ‘peace to the just’, and I cannot read it,
for I have lost my eyes
within.
Once upon a time, there was silence.
Once upon a time, never failed to exist,
and they said
‘ask and you shall be given!’
And so they asked,
but they never received.
People were few, yet the never persisted.
They resorted to taking,
and took meaningless treasures.
What purpose does life serve, when you steal it?
If I murder a shadow, will I crawl in its place?
If I conquer a war
Will peace be restored?
If I fight my own demons, will angels replace me?
This stairway to nowhere is leading us places
where people are enough to themselves.
I see fiery rain, but the water asphyxiates it,
and I crave for the flame of incipience.
Have I taught myself recklessness,
or am I lost ...nowhere?