I am wispering words to weave
the threads of all my rhythms
alive and dead pulsation
of the situation boiling bloodline
bleeding red seeking simpler
situations
peace of mind is clearly
defined and lost among
the bitter blind masked
as meak they trudge though
weak thru the tangled times
arms outstretched bodies wrecked
and waiting for a sign
that all is well
the doors to hell are closing
with the ringing of the
churyard bells
denying entrance to those
who swim beyond the swell
of a plastic Him
who hides so well.
did we tread softly on the ocean floor...
to know the answer we must open our eyes...
and return to the beginning of our lives...~
eyes are open