Dark Sorrow

The darkness, the emptiness.

The self isolation, despair, and exile.

And how long will it be until they realize there is no contest?

The war is over, the debate is finished.

Both sides have their moments of victory

and those times are now gone.

The pitch black night tearing into our lands of restful slumber and warmth.

And it's a cold cold world out here,

without the moon giving off her heat.

The isolated pulsations of the stars mourning their mother's shallow death.

The prophesized predicament inherent with our hatred.

And why should we, the human's mortal flesh,

thrive upon the sheer destruction we exonerate.

The only gem in a wasteland deserted at its core chance of survival.

And she lights the path for us,

choosing the sadness we seek to feed off of.

The only pleasure derived from this vile place of refuge,

the victory still smells sweeter

from underneath the blade.

Deserted Nites

The desert sands flourish beneath your ripening vines.

The glow of the sun diminishing into the cool breeze of evening.

The dunes ripple in brite swelling masses below your pristine presence.

The ripe edges of the horizon marking the cascading effects of the rippling beauty.

And so your domes are pure, perfect in this evening light -

and what more could we wish for in a world of nite?

Dreams Of Souls

My dreams echo thoughts of despair, violence, and prolonged suffering.

The abandoned feeling of lost hopes pulsating through a world of loneliness.

And those dreams are simply lost desires forgotten by the true masters,

but remembered in the darkest hours of nights.

And so how many worlds are lost due to the deepest wonders being the only mysteries left -

the chaos of the human mind -

a spirit unknown within the soul.

And of course those nightmares became the only dreams we will remember.