 |
| Pathways to Oblivion |
| There is a time when all that is, ceases within heart, mind and soul, A Place where dwells the mysteries of all and nothing, never shared, lost, stories untold. Shadows within the stillness, whisperings of mortal dreams upon frozen winters breath, Nightmares where demons dance upon the graves of loves lost, given eternally unto death. We pass through the night, fearing that which we cannot touch, sense nor see, Dreading the creatures of the darkness that are there, or may have never been. So many doubts shared in fear, so many tribulations cast in hateful scourn, When pass the living from this life, suffer only their loved ones, those left to mourn. Stand fast all you, who would dare gaze into the face of blackness, and judge that which you do not know. The time draws near, for all to share fates distant thunder which even now does ominously grow. So wander not into the long drawn shadows where darkness and evil in your mind does dwell, For you may find my friend, that you created, become, and always were your own personal hell. By Alex Knight |
|
| My Heart, My Poe |
| Wandering where the shadowed willows bow in silent mourn of the warmth of summers long past, Winters breath, whispering secrects within hallowed grounds wherein deaths embrace is forever cast. Iron gates gage wide, solemn gaze upon melancholic sky, as mourner eternal wanders silently inward slowly making his way; Through the overgrown paths, and stone monuments who stand in ghastly postures rennaisance, where moss covered cherubs, upon graves seem to play. A hand holds tightly, the roses that never wilt, as he wanders in bleeding from the thorns merciless wrath, paused but for a moment in time; When the winds mournful call carried another saddening wail, the distance cry of a raven, where he stood silently poundering the sound to rhyme. Kneeling before grave and placing his heart upon cold stone, the raven called again, even closer from beyond thickets snow covered peak; Rising from the dampness he turned to observe the enormous black bird, it's shrill mane of cobalt feathers, and sharp midnight black beak. It was then our dear friend had seen or seemed, to realize the enigma, of a dream within a dream; Now in silence and years long gone, the willows still bow, but the people once remiscing are sadly all gone. The slightest of wind now carries the leaves and the memories where he once stood and seemed, Nevermore, the words of a peot, who heard the ravens call, and shared his nightmare and dreams. By Alex Knight |
| Passing |
| So many empty nights pass as the mournful wind whispers softly, weeping of now distant memories, drifting beyond eternities merciful grace, The stillness that envelopes all, casting shadows within the ether that surrounds and creates dreams and nightmares, within mortal minds embrace. Standing alone before what bitterness does madness bring, watching silently, as the long shadows pass from mournful souls of now darkened hails, Listening to the unbearable silence of the echoing emptiness, as from out of melancholic burial grounds, eternity calls. The night passes slowly as time ebbs, drifting as a crimson stream, drawn from wounds commited of passion, derived from enlightened dark dream, What madness casts trouble gaze upon empty shadows that rhythmically dance from out of fireplace, which now in crazed eyes does gleam. So many nights pass as the mournful wind whispers softly, weeping on now distant memories, drifting beyond eternities merciful grace. By Alex Knight |
 |
|
 |
 |
 |
 |