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.