Abattoir

I found this poem somewhat acidentally in one of my memo book. It was folded over, as if I had wanted to forget it. Well here it is. <br.

In the darkest pits

and brightest crags

the syllibants of your name

ring out

Time will pass

yet your smile will remain

branded on my soul

diminished naught by your absence

solely by my lack of faith

Like a blind echo

it searches

Every crevice and unreachable oubliette

Love.

Some say it is blind

Perhaps it is a false hope

We crave the haven

Of flesh-all understanding

of arms outstretched

of flesh drunken with our own scent

Meshed into them

As they are meshed into us

If there is an us

And not an I.

A single beat blossoming

In the shadowy expanse of possibility

We standalone in the mirrors

an image sullen, as one is missing

As we are missing

the blossomed beat

Withered in pools of stagnancy

Search onward

Blind hands through the eternities

Futile.

Tempered in a teary acid bath

stumble, lie, cheat

we wake in the lie

and see our self destruction

Trying to rewind

That which has already burgeoned into ash

And we lie there

shackled by each possibility not acted upon

Could it ever be the same?

Will the morning light still shine as bright?

Not without the warmth

that cradled my soul

Not without the flesh

which golden rays fell upon at dawn

In the end

my bed is but a coffin

tear drops nailing me in

Within is silent

An ash filled wasteland

Light chaffing the remains

A cold grey beast

relentlessly moving onward

forgetting what is behind him