A Ward Against Khosadam
Darkness stills my hand
Where once it encouraged it
A fog encompasses my mind
Confusing my thoughts with reality
Questioning my existence
As though the world wonders if I am truly here
Musical notes echo through caverns in my mind that, once filled, stand empty and dusty, lost to the ravages of time, of the crime of forgetting, victims of a master mind
Gunfire and violins push me over the cliff’s edge
And as the wind rushes past my face, I close my eyes
They have deceived me in the past
So I can only hope my other senses will compensate
I cannot imagine and create at the same time
To be engrossed in a world that would inspire another, but paralyzes my pen
My hand is gone
My arm is numb
By my own words I am stricken dumb
A spell upon myself
A curse
To wander without taking steps
Through hallways of death shrouds
Through clotheslines of black linen and sunlight as dark as night, forsaken by the moon
I wander in trees the size of buildings
Cities of pedestrians and foliage
Blind and seeing
Drops of salt that encompass the world
Acid rain to chip the vanish, the enamel pitted by my pain
If I were God, we would all have died
So I know it is not me
I am not the ruler, nor creator, of my own world
This prison planet
This mine deep beneath the crust
But broken, I cannot ascend
My yoke has snapped and cannot be replaced
But what if it is just a mistake?
What if I stand, still, in the untilled field, pulling the plow behind me and my sickness has made me blind, faint
I have the strength to go on
But I made the mistake and forgot to ask for help
So, still, I am to blame
And a fire waits for me, stoked since the beginning of time, when he knew that I would come
A kettle of tea hissing
For I’m the unhonored, honored guest
What I have been denied here, waits there for me, the place of honor at the captain’s table
The deception of my own heart
My own mind
Placing me high on the throne of fools
And I take the jester’s place
For it has been millennia since he has laughed
Whisper to me the secret of the universe
So quiet that I cannot hear
But the comfort of the words’ existence spreading through my limbs
I cannot go on faith
Because I have none
Where once it encouraged it
A fog encompasses my mind
Confusing my thoughts with reality
Questioning my existence
As though the world wonders if I am truly here
Musical notes echo through caverns in my mind that, once filled, stand empty and dusty, lost to the ravages of time, of the crime of forgetting, victims of a master mind
Gunfire and violins push me over the cliff’s edge
And as the wind rushes past my face, I close my eyes
They have deceived me in the past
So I can only hope my other senses will compensate
I cannot imagine and create at the same time
To be engrossed in a world that would inspire another, but paralyzes my pen
My hand is gone
My arm is numb
By my own words I am stricken dumb
A spell upon myself
A curse
To wander without taking steps
Through hallways of death shrouds
Through clotheslines of black linen and sunlight as dark as night, forsaken by the moon
I wander in trees the size of buildings
Cities of pedestrians and foliage
Blind and seeing
Drops of salt that encompass the world
Acid rain to chip the vanish, the enamel pitted by my pain
If I were God, we would all have died
So I know it is not me
I am not the ruler, nor creator, of my own world
This prison planet
This mine deep beneath the crust
But broken, I cannot ascend
My yoke has snapped and cannot be replaced
But what if it is just a mistake?
What if I stand, still, in the untilled field, pulling the plow behind me and my sickness has made me blind, faint
I have the strength to go on
But I made the mistake and forgot to ask for help
So, still, I am to blame
And a fire waits for me, stoked since the beginning of time, when he knew that I would come
A kettle of tea hissing
For I’m the unhonored, honored guest
What I have been denied here, waits there for me, the place of honor at the captain’s table
The deception of my own heart
My own mind
Placing me high on the throne of fools
And I take the jester’s place
For it has been millennia since he has laughed
Whisper to me the secret of the universe
So quiet that I cannot hear
But the comfort of the words’ existence spreading through my limbs
I cannot go on faith
Because I have none
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