Randoms

After the Storm

And so the storm has passed.

Taking with it my fear and doubt,

but still leaving scars that will last.

And now I avoid the pools,

Skirting the terrifying truths.

The truths that swirl with the ghouls. 

And the eyes that stare,

Gazing up at me from the water.

My reflection, an unbroken stare. 

So far I've come,

To gain nothing. 

Now I'm just left numb.

I can't even collect the water,

poisoned with dread.

All for some man's daughter . . .

Where do I turn now?

Where does one go from here?

Does anyone know how?

The clouds are still in the sky. 

Heavy, dark, and yet no rain.

Do I wait for them to cry?

Or shall I move on,

As everyone says I should?

 Instead of hoping for dawn?

The sun won't rise again.

Not until I can figure myself out. 

Can I trust that I am I even sane?

The pieces of my sould lay strewn about,

A wasted mess. 

Some deep in those pools, full of my doubt. 

Can I get them back?

Or are they forever lost?

Trapped in those puddles of black. 

Shouldn't it all be clear

Now that the rain has gone?

Why are things not as they appear?

Hidden still in the mists

That remain of the tempest. 

My ghost persists.

The shadow who fears, 

The phantom who doubts,

The shade who brings me to tears. 

Planes of my existence

That I had thought dispelled.

Instead, they mount a resistance. 

I thought I'd be content,

Once the rain had passed. 

And yet, I still lament. 

The same song I've been singin, 

The song even I've grown tired of. 

And now it's my own neck I am wringing. 

I suppose I should go, 

Leave this soggy land.

Shed my tired woe. 

Set sail for new lands,

Sow new seeds,

Seek golden sands. 

I'll cast off my boots first.

For they cling to the muddy sorrow,

The sadness for which they seem to thirst.  

Then I'll say farwell to my coat, 

For it is heavy and wet. 

Out at sea it will never help me float. 

Goodbye shirt, goodbye pants. 

You cannot serve me any longer. 

You can't help me advance. 

Naked and vulnerable,

this is the only way. 

We will see if I am truly capable. 

If I can pass through the fog,

with nothing but myself.

Then I will know I no longer breath the smog. 

The smog that sits under the clouds,

thick smoke waiting. 

Waiting to wrap me in its strangling shrouds.

So it's decided. 

I'm going away.

By my heart I am guided.