The Path

I want to be cold again
black as ice under the new Moon sky
motionless, an absolute stillness
where nostalgia and melancholy end
like the warmth of life in a body unprotected

I want to sleep alone
in the cold and still darkness
a millions miles from a million miles of nowhere
aging like the fallen leaves on the ground
of an autumn seven summers ago

I want to walk the path of forever
paved with the headstones of mine enemies
no destination, only a finality
mountains rain-soaked with the sweat of labor
and valleys swollen with a river of tears

I don't know what ...
what is or can become of these desires
violence and sorrow blissful with pain
with horror as a beauty within the fires
burning in me, scorching my thoughts in flames

I will never have answers to this
the way of 'this' and it's rhymes or reasons
all I can do is hold my head up high
and travel through these ever-moving seasons
towards whatever heaven or hell beyond these paths lie


 

Reviews

[Rich Horror]

It's not the destination, it's the journey. This was great and vivid and alive.