They That Were
The doors of a shuttered house stand closed
You walk up to the desiccated grounds
No true path
No sign of color or vivid life
No way to get past the hound
He stands with beaded eyes before you
You pound into him once twice no more
The walls too high, their breast too harsh,
You fall hopelessly into the pit of ages
There is no light
There is no righteousness
There is no me and no them
Laughter sounds cold and forbidding
The Madame of the house calls down
“Do you not feel Foolish?
Beaten and Broken
Fallen down- the angel that never was and never could be”
A step
One up, one down, and one to the light
It grows up inside unbeknownst to them
You stand tall you face the beast
The breath on his breast dissolves him
The beat of the broken heart slams the door open once more
The beaten body heals Inside there is beauty, inside there is truth, justice
The richness of the inner self is unable to be seen from the desiccated grounds,
but here is where the true likeness lies
Your eyes, theirs, they are one in the same
You and they are one in the same
Their words can pierce no more
The shell of yourself falls away
The Madame is gone-
Fallen to the pit of ages
Does she not feel foolish you say?
Does she not know who YOU are?
Do you know nowThe Inner?