Beneath A Sighing Sky



Dreams of words that were never said, of places lost forever as one by one they stopped believing. You try so hard to keep the magic alive, yet it fades as others become just another part of an ever growing machine. Fleeing in the heavy rain, we hide in alleys and parks, soaked to the bone and wishing for release. The night takes us in its arms. Watching with envious eyes, we see them as they exist without end. The ones with no pain. The ones who find it so easy. The stains in our hearts. The guilty urges that keep us away from the light. Disintegrating thoughts. Bewitched by the shadows, and the countless yesterdays that can be found within. Love and tenderness in a fleeting touch. A broken man. A broken child. The animals call me home and along with all the oceans of the world, I swim with creation and wonder like a baby in the womb. At one with nature, there is nothing that can harm me as long as the stars are aligned above my weary head. These cruel hands, and all those they have let go. These lips that have kissed, now speaking silently instead to the shadows in the corner of the room. Such delicate lines in the snow. So many shapes that have never been seen. The days fly past like pages in a book, yet these eyes remain just where they were when you first caught sight of them. You only change with the thoughts that come and go within your mind. Places and faces offer a fresh approach, yet it’s all so empty. Everywhere’s the same. As the music plays and the hours pass, reflection brings salvation. It keeps you real in a time of constant dismay. Listen to Nick Drake. Read Camus. Throw the windows open wide, and preach what you sow. Which will is yours and mine. It’ll last as long as our hearts dance to the howling despair that lingers on. It’ll last like bones down a well, covered up and forgotten like the grave of someone of no importance.

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