| MY POETRY PAGE - 3 |
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Darkness Strikes Last - Shannon Whitfield The spirit of the world rests within ourselves Not to be boxed or shelved. To roam free amongst the land Carefree, hand in hand. The feeling of change, of me; To once and finally be To be looked upon by all Taken up from the fall The depth of desire The fuel to my personal fire There is nothing that I cannot be Once it is that I see Look outward to the sky Think that you can fly Know that you can glide Know that you can slide Love thyself, love your enemies Love friend, love your memories Change is in your blood, the air It's in your eyes, your raven hair Take your stand, form your plan Take my hand, I'm your woman, I will be there for your highs I will be there against the sighs I am there when you are saddened And for when the worlds got you maddened I know the path you take The best friend you will make I, too, must make my route And there is no shadow of doubt The darkness strikes first, then calms The light seems dim and far from palms But with the right choices, The light will sing in collective voices But when the end can be seen, And there is just time in between, All the world will look and see, The you that you were meant to be. |
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| Beautiful Nothing ( Embracing Darkness ) By Jason Dunn Someone told me, life is pain I know this to be truth, because the pain surrounds me It envelopes me, holds me under the water, denying my attempts to catch my breath Such a beautiful pain, it endears itself to me like no other Her memory...like a dagger of malicious madness, it cuts through my heart Rending my sould asunder, like so much dirty paper strewn on a back alley Her smiling face... now a cowl of bittersweet anger, it mocks and berates me Beating me down with all the charm and subtlety of a shotgun blast to the face My God, what did I ever do to deserve this wondrous girt of torment? Maybe I need to readjust my life, to fit around hers... Maybe, just maybe, I need to erase her from recent memory A love like hers can be likened to walking on broken glass Minus the release of bleeding, and multyplying the pain by a million I'm not sure if I ever felt a twinge of affection from her in those final days Her face, that mask... everything was one big joke And I was its target Such a beautiful nothing... no one should enjoy this pain so sweetly But I embrace it, enfold it into me... longing to welcome it back into my life yet again And hope this final gift shall never go to waste |
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