Wednesday, November 5, 2014

Candle of time…

“Has the dawn ever seen your eyes?”
   No, no, don’t turn away now, not now, not this time…
     “Clear the battlefield and let me see…,
      …all the profit from our victory…”
      “Are ya’ deaf when ya’ hear the seasons call?”

This is where and when I light my candle.
It’s not made of paraffin for wick, but a nick,
sharp in time forcing its stall into stillness.
Yeah, I hear the lead guitar wailing…

Yeah, I hear, nothing so bright as appears,
never has been, but my attention’s within.
Brighten the lights, music hard up in terrible din,
but my quiet is so much louder in deep silence.

I know why, but still I ask, “Why?”
When I know, and always have, the answer,
the answer has always been deep within.
Knowing it’s true, you feign to know, in shame of denial.

You (think you) want heaven to rain down, but…+

--RK, 11:39pmEST, 11/4/2014
   How terribly & deeply sad you just don’t get it…

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