A mostrar mensagens de Dezembro, 2011

where it hurts

in the ultimate silence
of the gathering dark
let me mould my words
and rephrase the past
for an angel that weighs
the sweetest of heads against these words.

godlike, my love. godlike.
the world you have shaped
we all at your feet, we all your feat
you solved us all, absolved our tears
an arrow, an anvil of pure fire
so you moulded the world
for us, and us alone

your light we absorbed
and drank you dry
a thirst-ridden whirlwind of beggars

but now our house has grown still
vast empty spaces that nothing can fill
as you whither away
into a dark speck of pain

the beggars are gone
as if they’d never been
and the silence grows darker
till my ears ring

I cup my hands around your flame
that never needed words
for a goddess sheds light

so on I fight while the world retreats
I fight the dark, I fill the stillness
I lay the world upon your altar

for the world will be words
when you are gone,
and words are for angels
that can’t be undone.
when you are gone
no angels can save me.
and so I rise and