The summer's winds have all but stopped
the winter weather nears
I sit beside the window and watch the year turn into years
I am not sure where it all leads
some say they know the plan
of an immortal being with eyes aflame who holds me in his hands
But what if it is all a plot
to make me do their deeds
shall I follow endlessly to fulfill another's needs.
What if all that they believe
is just a wicked tale
a made up story to ease their pain of a life that's doomed to fail
The autumn's harvest or a winter's death
a darkness will soon fall
and eyes will close against the sharp reality of a lifetime's empty lull
It is just a jest to press my hands
and to bend my knees
pretending that I believe in something way beyond all of this and me
Shall I suffer horribly
with gnashing of my teeth
shall I burn in some molten hell with others of like beliefs
The bubbling pools of sulphur
projected to cause me fear
leave but a bitter stench that souls can be so steered
For there is not but what I see
there are no unknown truths
from all their carols of life's rebirth I find that I must flee
To the hilltop I shall take me
to the sea I shall float
away to something else which pulsates echos of times remote
If there is a great spirit
and should it walk with ease
among the wicked and just, it cares not who tries to please
It must be so beyond us
so different from our kind
how could it matter if I am good or if I am blind
The entity that we call in trust
to witness our good deeds
cares not about the little spirits enraptured with little pleas
I know this is so
I know it hears me not
for I have asked again and again to have what others got
A gentle pillow to rest my head
a bowl full of soup
a life to be spared from death when illness was a foot
And did it hear me
I think not, it made me wait with pause
I take up now my bitterness, a true and righteous cause
Look to another dream
turn away from this myths
this works not and must be crushed, under heavy, blacken beams.
In my way I have trusted so
I have walked the razor's edge
my life has been for folly and I sit here now in dread
I know that no matter the plea
no matter how sweet the praise
the God to whom I have prayed is just in some silly daze
The winter's night of darkness
kisses my cheek goodnight
the Spring shall never call again from me it must take flight