Each Path its Loss

Some roads can seem to endless stretch
Into sunless retreat.
Silence in surrender soaked,
Those leagues under our feet.

The darkness of decision
Always cackles where we cross,
No torch is ever bright enough
To weigh each path its loss.

Still, time keeps its promise;
Though at the point of sword,
And through sour concession find
Tomorrow at the door.

And isn't she so hideous,
Beautiful beyond compare?
Opportunity fantastical
Hangs violent in the air.

Dragons and Star-fields granted,
All "sorries"- lasting, true.
A where and when all scars are healed
And flowers cradle dew.

But dragons are always hungry,
Each star irradiates,
Apology not so easy when
New health imposters make.

Hope dances for a short while
In her epileptic way,
Always ends up on the floor,
Her shit the final say.

No matter how perfect the puzzle,
Or how profound the peace,
The poignancy of this puppet show,
The length of fire-ceased.

Nothing answers the question
That god booms from tower high;
His disgusting oppression She
Repeats until we die.

What way will it be then?
Which path of flame and death?
Which ecstasy at heavy cost?
What's worth our petty breath?

Some roads can seem to circle wind
Into sun-baked defeat,
Cacophony of endless screams,
These souls under our feet.

The brightness of the bombs we make
Blinds us to the cross;
No shade is ever dark enough
To weigh each path its loss.