We stand alone,
Beneath the anvil of lonely, cloudless skies.
Everywhere darkness; no light
Exists in this silent shroud of shadows.
It's hopeless, suffocating embrace
Closes ceaselessly over worn
Frames of unsteady hearts,
Consuming souls and hopes and dreams.
Stealing time from uncertain clockmakers.
Colour from doubtful painters.
Life from fearful strangers.
We stand within the jagged claws of darkness,
As it ravages the soft gold flesh of hopes and dreams,
Etching crooked scars into the smooth walls of drowning
Hearts in the name of fear.
Fear; the scapegoat of atrocities immeasurable.
Accused by voices of strangled souls of countless crimes of shadow.
However in such darkness, love, pride, all desert.
But not Fear, no, O Fear, my friend,
Was present at my beginning and will hold me at the end.
I have learned to stand with Fear,
Through the blackest hours of my soul.
Through crushing blows and silent screams.
I've spent my life in fear and shadow
But I no longer dread the dark.
For if there's one thing Fear has taught me:
It's that even when the shroud of dark deprives me of my sight,
Do not be afraid, have hope.
For the shadows only accentuate the light.
YOU ARE READING
Whispers of the Mind
PoetryWords have power. I learnt that from an early age. I love that you can bring people to other worlds and take them for a tour, create a whole universe in peoples minds, or give a special kind of hope and friendship to them. I love to welcome peopl...
