Angels became spectators
To the horror known as living
A pain gut deep and with vomit
While demons smile deep smiles.
I could see Heaven peering
But the soul in nature searing
To grasp the stars which wept
In solitary silence kept.
Ghosts whose cloudy faces skipped
Swiftly in the swirling mist
Of this place..a fearful place
The scholars call the living.
The twirling doom I know as mine
Its sentence etched to serve in time
Upon the shoulders of the biting storm
Within a sweet poetic dawn.
The candles each in silent procession
For silence he has many robes
Feeds the body to lengthen life
To delay the sacrifice
Of what was always meant to be
The destruction of the inner me.