They faded into the mirage
of a forgotten desert horizon
What is left behind are no longer moods
or tender expressions
They are pale distortions of light dancing off the
Imperfect mirror,
Shifting and becoming
Creatures of different ages and thoughts;
Creatures breathing stale dreams of lonely days
Unchanged since I was one of them.

In him was life

What is this place where I stand but home
Or another place I cannot remain
From deaths kingdom the rise
to tell of beauty
And freedom for pleasure
But in the distance I hear the chopping of metal to wood
I picture the blood that cascades,
That fills the cups of the thousands thirsty for more
And I am silent
The guillotine sings lugubrious anthems
And we whistle along in familiar contentment.

and the life was the light of men

I went out upon a lake cold
To look across the land changing.
There were many places where I had been
But they could not recognize themselves
The could not see beyond the stagnating
of their own lives
They were motion slaves of sound to a totalitarian beat
Their heads bounced and the bodies shook
And they smiled unevenly across the surface.

The light shines in the darkness

For all their momentary passion, not one ripple heaved
Or sighed across that stoic lake.
Not one bird left it's rest but left for death
Voices rose above the sudden din
And fell silent in embarrassment
Flashes of fire burned across the sky
Screaming as they fell extinguished upon the surface.
Was this the sound of people turning their back on God?

and the darkness has not overcome it.

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