• Feeling the dirt underneath your feet,
    Observing the changing shapes before the earth,
    Motionless is the melody that swings the autumn breeze,
    But you hold your head up still.
    Unconventional savior…
    Their spirits stand weak behind their curtains of uncertainty,
    Too frail to stand in the way of failure,
    Succumbing to mortality under the eyes of their false gods.

    Arrogance breathes, and it speaks tongues to me,
    Their mangled words preach me sympathy.
    But I do not seek a mournful awning of dialogue from the congregation.
    All I can say is for them to close their mouths and,
    Spare me.

    What are they going to do when the lights begin to flicker on and off?
    For you hold the candle now,
    Fetch me my wisdom and guide me with your voice.
    To oblivion, we shall ride with haste.

    Kicking the dirt beneath your feet,
    You tested our world for what it serves,
    Like the raped little girl under the tyrant’s love,
    They dig into her, disembowel, destroy the evidence.
    High is the wind for their tell-tale ideals,
    For them, the light is always at the end of the tunnel.
    But pardon my choice of words my dear, but how?
    When we cannot see nor understand this light?
    Is it real?

    The light hides from us, in darkness we all dwell.
    Instead of the warmth of the father’s arms we all,
    Feel cold.
    Tells us to love, appreciate, and respect;
    So why do we see all of these spiteful followers?
    Explain.
    Where is the light that we always read about?
    To come and liberate, save us?
    As we stand on the edge of the needle,
    We are told to wait for the ending.
    My dear, please excuse me,
    But who is writing, holding the pen?

    Underneath the candle is a recollection,
    Of the eyes and of the ears,
    All telling me the same.
    They vouched for faith and sold their souls to him,
    Wished for his blessing to bathe them in grace;
    But stay dry.
    Through the garden of shadows, their eyes wander around,
    Their tormented souls seeking a land of light.
    All the same.

    Now I stare into your empty, soulless eyes.
    Tell me just where is this light now?
    So many questions, just too many for you now;
    But I just cannot stand to let you go.
    I cannot lose my faith in your fire.
    Higher you rise, and lower we fall,
    I can smile for your truth, for your convictions,
    And I can cry for the flicker of your fading existence.

    Here now, the wick falls dead,
    Your skin grows cold on this forsaken earth.
    A single tear waters the earth,
    And a million more forge a river,
    The body of light that will guide your ship up through the clouds,
    Higher and higher now.

    So now comes the time where you stand at the gates,
    Slam your fists at the door, calling,
    “I have ascended, it is time.
    It is time for me to,
    Receive my wings!”