Breaking Day

When all the world fails to be so grand,
When all that's left are pebbles strewn across sand,
When the rain never ceases to fall,
When the rivers run rampant and conquer all.

While the sun is blanketed out by walls of dust,
While the moon is covered red with its rust,
While the remnants of ruins still crumble,
While cracks of thunder violently clash and rumble.

After the last day things were still the same,
After the one moment when they sky played tame,
After the winds blasted rising mountain sides,
After fire and smoke rose and swept the sky.

This is when I'll still take hold of your hand,
This is the time we'll stroll across dunes of sand,
This wasted-land isn't so very dreaded,
This is easy when you smile where we're headed.

You are there with me in this eerie dream,
You are there with me your eyes and their gleam,
You are here with me when I awaken,
You will be with me when I'm mistaken.

I will smile and laugh into your eye,
I will be there wherever you will lie,
I see that you are sometimes without a way,
I want to be beside you during breaking day.

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Baneful Schism

What in this furious flame can prosper,
For the sweltering heat leadens will and mind,
And any man here is but a soul guide-less.
An ever-close sun burns away sweat,
Never-ending mountains cannot reach light,
The only light is like a torch heavy and red.
The air is thick and breath struggles,
Skin is parched and scarred forever,
Healing is absent from physical and conscious.
Affection is familiar but never possessed,
Walls of men like armies scale the cynical hills,
They climb and climb but can’t ascend,
The temperature accretes with every step.
Caves of stone provide no shelter,
For creatures ill to sight there lurk and spy.
Clothes on the backs of men cling tight,
Unruly hair grows painfully upon burnt scalps.
Women accompany but passion is consumed.
There is no family or society nor language.
The math has been done they know,
But knowledge isn’t fruitful nor pleasant,
For it serves to torture the remnants of minds,
With no tree to bear apples but flaming branch,
I know the pieces fit for I watched them,
They fell to ashes by serpent tongue,
There was a time when the pieces were whole,
But, O lead me away from this place.

Retort:

[i]Well this is what you wanted,
Isn’t this what you had in mind?
So this is what your getting!
[/i]

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The Rose of Solemnity

A petal is lost with every thorn that's grown,
Piles of soft red pile around the dirt all around,
As the days pass I wonder if any red should long remain,
For the loss comes with much more haste than any gain.
My back is bent under the weight of a fallen snow,
While the colour begins to bleed from the petals down below.
My roots grip firm into the grounds of a cemetery,
Oh the places I'd go if I weren't sedentary:
Maybe upon a mountain clearing overlooking an old city,
Or in the garden of the red haired woman so pretty.
I can only hope to be cropped and set in a case,
I'll be admired thereafter as petals decorate the base.
Yet here I cower and regret to dwell,
As if an outcast flower sprout from hell.
Why do I sit where people neglect to view,
In a land where things rust and where nothing is new.
I saw first light upon the front of a crypt,
Where I shall see the last if I'm never clipped.
Roses, they say, are to be admired and shared,
But of that fate it seems that I'm spared.