As souls breaking madness, we sacrifice. To lose
pieces, to gain splinters, to become our condition.
Out of sadness, out of mud and silence—seeking sanity
and peace. One askew line.
To endure until time unveils—shifts, dangers, mystery;
too many mirrors, so many eyes, to applaud mendacity.
Needing what isn’t keepable; asking for what isn’t
answerable; mire, sludge, un-swimmable.
Ethics, at its peak, desires goodness, deep suffering,
willing against what wills to destroy itself.
As souls facing banshees, going through privacies,
dealing with vampire music, indebted to so many.
A couplet can’t grasp madness, words are never enough,
actions fail in fear, damages are palpable.
Waiting with patience—ghouls inside, omens
participating, life seeming difficult. Indebted to silence.
As spirits facing fires, dangling near flame, feeling
hellish, nigh abandoned, soft flickering embers.
In surviving weather, becoming storms, treading
through swamps, palming marshweed—this is existence.
Many are destined—to tread uphill, to battle dragons,
to push a big boulder … going through emotions!
As spirits collectively, trespassing barriers, delving
into skies, trying to answer imperceptibility.
To grasp Purple Rain, to hold back tears, to
treasure goodness, stepping through unbearable angst.
