Bacchus
The Fly
I see a thousand words before me
The ground is so far away
This wind below me takes
Shape like candles in the night
And into the city
Where a hundred people lay dormant.
Silent screams
Caress every brick;
She takes the flame,
Carries it through.
Her father?s footprints
The only traces
Of the love she once knew.
Across the fields where the water
Flows like blood in her veins
Sleeps the ghost of man
She holds so?
Her eyes black as coal
Lead him through a tunnel,
Lights so dim he can?t follow.
The only guide to his steps
Is the sound of her heartbeat.
The hum in his ears,
He whispers her name:
His only prayer
------------------
"The inner-self is true self, the very essence of who I am. The impulse that drives the vessel. The motive and the reason." - peter j. koskela
The ground is so far away
This wind below me takes
Shape like candles in the night
And into the city
Where a hundred people lay dormant.
Silent screams
Caress every brick;
She takes the flame,
Carries it through.
Her father?s footprints
The only traces
Of the love she once knew.
Across the fields where the water
Flows like blood in her veins
Sleeps the ghost of man
She holds so?
Her eyes black as coal
Lead him through a tunnel,
Lights so dim he can?t follow.
The only guide to his steps
Is the sound of her heartbeat.
The hum in his ears,
He whispers her name:
His only prayer
------------------
"The inner-self is true self, the very essence of who I am. The impulse that drives the vessel. The motive and the reason." - peter j. koskela