My shadows of hope

They catch me with the gasoline again. Playing with matches once again. They see me trying to burn the world. They think they understand my pain. They think they care, because they ask. They think they care, for it's their task. But I'd rather if they didn't. I'd rather, if they left me in the dark. I'd rather burn my world down, than look into their eye, and see the light. The light from another world, where I was exactly as they wanted me to be. I'd rather take a match to my dreams than watch them shout and scream at how my thoughts are so different from theirs. And now, I don't even care. They think they know me, they think they know what's best for me. But my heart is my own secret to keep. I'll hide it in me, somewhere deep. They catch me with the gasoline again they take away my matches from me. But it's too late. The spark has been struck. It's too late for my dreams to escape.

What could I give those, who gave their everything. What meager award do I lay at their hallowed feet. What words could honor their sleepless nights. What actions could match their peerless sacrifice. How many tears must I shed to equal their sacred blood. Given freely, without question in exchange for my peaceful rest. And now the martyr, who yesterday stood. Sleeps the sleep of the well deserved. In casket of wood. And I stand, dumbfounded, that someone like him once walked this earth, this peerless, selfless soldier. And so, in quiet, I stand, with empty hand. With insufficient words to lay upon cold ground. His flag I do salute as she flies proudly above his final resting place. Her chest, bursting with pride, the mother welcomes her son home.

Bring me home, father bring me home. Don't leave me lying in a strange land, alone. Bring my bones back to a ground they know. Bring me back to that place called home. Forgive me father for I have lost. This war with life, all reason and cause. I lived a hard life and lost a lot. But I tried to make do with what I got. But now it's all said and done Please don't let my rest be a lonely one. Lay me beside that apple tree That one with the swing that you made for me. Bring my bones home father leave the pain. Leave the disappointment that I became. Leave the hurt behind that I gave so freely. I became a monster, but won't you forgive me. Won't you understand and please, let me be, home

You can misapprehend me, misinterpret my message. Misconstrue my words, misconceive my notion. Mistake my intentions misread my lips. Miss my point Be confused and confounded Take amiss my feelings Miscalculate, err or be mistaken. You could get the wrong idea take it the wrong way Receive a false impression Be under a delusion. But the truth remains, that I checked for the synonyms of misunderstood, and the above is what Google had to say.

No longer black or white, wrong or right, merely scared, as one, coated in earth, separated not by creed or righteousness, but by greed and hatred. The poor children stand as one. To face the brunt of their father's stubbornness. Old traditions that still demand the happiness of their children are coaxed to stay alive while those that still live are condemned to die in the foxholes dug into the earth on both sides. No longer black or white, no longer wrong or right. They stand as one and fall as one, side by side. In neat little rows, buried. There lay our brightest minds our greatest joys, our little soldiers, bedecked with medals. There they sleep, my darlings. Their father's pride and joy.

This world is roaring, in all its madness. Everyone is shouting in her face. Her heart is breaking, this dull aching. That doesn’t look like it’s going away. And yet, she stands frightened and alone. She lets her tears silently fall. For she knows that no one will listen. To what she has to say. She wants to tell them that it wasn’t her fault. She didn’t want to be this way. But that’s the way that the world turns. And she had to remake herself this way. And so she stands. Frightened and silent. She lets her tears silently fall. With no one to catch them And no one to wipe them. She stands tall, bent but not broken. She lets let them silently fall.

In the recent thunderstorm The heavy downpour left a tiny raindrop, hanging on for dear life. And though insignificant, for an instant, that tiny raindrop captured a rainbow in it's heart. Broke the light of the sun into a million colours. And inverted the entire world. But the moment passed and the raindrop fell. Now made insignificant once more.

One by one, the lights go out And what were once mere shadows Become a great unending darkness. And so I find myself,  huddled besides a paltry fire. Grasping for what motes of light I can find to gather against vast foe. Hope, the first of brittle weapons, anger, a fire that burns all that wield it, Fear, that pervasive miasmatic shroud, deserted by all, betrayed by all, I fall. And darkness, she finds me, Besides dying fire, gathering motes. Such an amusing creature, I. To think to fight her, the mother of all, with wisps and embers and reeds and smoke. Grasping at straws, gasping for hope. Until she finds me, besides dying fire. And my last grasp catches naught but air.

Far away misty streets where East and West do meet. Where lives are celebrated and the dead are venerated. Where saffron and denim live and together breathe. My mind still wanders down a misty Varnasi street. Where filth and pollution, moral and fiscal corruption fight for supremacy in this holiest of cities. Far away misty streets pan stained and saffron lined. A city growing steadily a temple in slow decline. Where lessons are learned with bullets and bombs. Where the color of your cloth supersedes the color of blood. Divided along lines of politics, religion and caste. With no room to grow but all the time to become free. My mind is still trapped in this conundrum, this dilemma, this divided and united city. My mind still belongs on misty Kasi streets.

I will rise, and I will fall. Just keep your eyes on me. I will run and I will crawl. Just keep watching me. I'm the dust and the shooting star. It's all the same to me. I'm the found and I'm the lost. Please just bear with me. Life will twist and it'll change A constant just like gravity. But I'll change and I'll adapt Just keep your faith in me.

What do you say, to one born in darkness? How do you show him the way to the light? When it hurts him so much to see, the right path. What succor does the light provide, by laying bare his sins and deeds, for him to see? Why then, are we surprised when he sees the light as foe, more than as a friend, come to awaken him? For doesn't he deserve his rest, among wretched dark, in the shadows that collude and comfort? Doesn't he have the right to blissful ignorance, such as is afforded by the sheen of night laid thick and dark over his past and his present? What do you, to one you seek to save, say when their lives are darkness and the darkness is all they have, to hide the screams of their conscience?

There was once a forest In my heart. It grew green and beautiful Wide and far. But then a beast came To stay. And things, they changed. The trees, they burned Te streams, they turned. Green turned to ash. The forest of my heart. I couldn't stop it, I couldn't change I couldn't also try to pretend That it was all alright. That there was no beast in my heart. Now it's all gone, the peace and quiet What remains is afraid and hides. Only the grey moves, in the dark Where there was a forest, in my heart.

Young prince, for father's wish to retake Osgiliath, called. And answered did they, his eored. And onwards they rode, 'pon swift steeds to swifter death. At the walls of the fell city. And even as their bodies fell to poisoned arrows and blade. They gave thanks to their lord who would rather die with them. Than turn and run, back to bitter father's scorn. And his brave,dead brother not yet cold in the ground. And they fell, his brave eored. To pass into smoke and memory. Through the blood and darkness, to the great plains of their fathers. Where they stand proud and look their kin in the eyes. And say, " Aye, I did die. But he is not dead yet. Our prince still lives, and thus our duty we have served well. Make of it, what you will. We ask now, for our rightful rest."

Life is long and dark. Find the sunlight When and where you can. No one can blame you for finding happiness. No one can stop you from being who you are. You are precious. You are wonderful. You are the light in the long, dark night. Be the light for yourself when all other lights are extinguished.

The fear of death can steal the smile from the most jocular of men. And yet, here it stands, head bowed. Before them. Time can rob the vitality from those at the peak of their health. And yet, here it stands, head bowed. Before them. For they who gave their lives, for country beloved, they smiled till noose or bullet stole the last of their strength. And before such sacrifice, such a brotherhood of loss. Even the greatest of powers bows it's head deep and prays.

What words were spoken Betwixt God and fate That let them decide This would be the hand I would be played. That this would come To pass, alas. And the thorns of the past Would cost me so. That sweat would always coat my brow. That tears shalt adorn Mine eyes, o woe. That pain shalt, My constant companion, be. That shackles bind, to the grindstone, me. That all joy pass In front of me. Ever a stranger Never company. That no rose shall I Playfully pluck. Without thorn In flesh be stuck. What transpired Between fated and fate. Between my succour And my warden that day. When God gave me Unto fate's tender care.

Look ye, look ye! Gaze yonder 'pon a gathering of the fair and the strong! Across oceans and deserts from mighty cities and hovels from cliff and surf, they come! They gather here, the fair and the strong! They come for glory, they come for vengeance Called by the horns of war and dreams of peace. They gather to the burning pyre of dominion or to cut the chains of tyrants, and see slaves freed. Who among them is worthy, now speak. Hold not onto the silence of the past centuries. All worthy, all mighty, select your vessel set him free from mortal perils and conduct his deeds. Have you chosen, mighty Excalibur? Are any worthy to heft thee, Mjolnir? Or any of you, weapons of war! Children of Mars! Do any glimpse any, who may add their names to thee? Hark! A voice speaks, from beneath dust and rust From beneath the golden and silver pedestals. A voice, at last, breaking the silence of years past. It speaks! Oh glory, it speaks! Have thee chosen from this lot, o humble one? Or have the...

The river was running it's course, and the sun beat down upon us with a quiet intensity. The moment was serene and I was content, to sit upon the rocks in the m idst of the river and contemplate the pattern that the fishes made, just below the surface of the flowing water. The frolicking of the Gerridae brought such a smile to your face. I can still recall, as if it had happened yesterday, your laughter at their their gamboling. I remember the warmth of the rock as it seeped through my hand. The sun was at it's apex, but we had an umbrella and that seemed to stymie his efforts to drive us from that place. It was a wonderful moment, wasn't it? A moment, suspended by the sounds of the river and the warmth of the sun. We did not grow thirsty, or hungry. Indeed, I think we had found a spot of immortality, where we could be happy and young forever. A spot untouched by the world outside, a bubble within this world, that was invisible to everyone else, but you and me....

Father, won't you hold my hand. The night is dark and worrisome. The shadows loom and the light, it dies a little each time I look. Father, won't you stay by my side. The silence seems to swallow the sun, the moon and the stars. Until only I stand. Alone, by the levy. Father, sing me a song. Fill this emptiness that seems to grow and gnaw and consume me. Save me from this vacuum. Sing me a song. Father, won't you be my strength. My own fails me and quails at the world. At the weight of my troubles and problems. Please don't let me stand alone. Though the tides bring their doom though the silence looms and consumes though the emptiness caresses my soul though my weakness eats me whole. Father, stand by me.

The young poet dreams. His eyes scan the low horizon. They witness the birth and death of stars. He witnesses worlds become heavy with life. And that life take hold and grow into a mighty torrent. He witnesses the first gasps of civilization and the first stone to be set upon stone. He sees the first hammers rise and fall upon steel. He sees brotherhood, against adversity. As the first ideas of tyranny and freedom entwine in their eternal dance and the first warriors raise th eir banners in support of their chosen ideals. He sees those warriors become soldiers, and soldiers become mighty armies. He weeps over the clash of colossal powers and the devastation of cosmic forces. He becomes one with the great tale, written once and told a million times over million. But before he can capture it.... The poet awakes. His eyes find and become obsessed by beauty. His heart yearns to be one with another. He forgets his cosmic tale and becomes enmeshed in something a lot more personal. N...

My fingers tremble the last cards dealt I write an empty epitaph. Burnt by heart betrayed by blood. My fate has run it's course. What happiness I could scrape. Is all spent, all gone. The setting sun it reminds me. That nothing is for ever. Beyond the curtain of day, night beckons. With the promise of rest. Her fingers in my hair I still search, fruitless. But the night, she beckons. And so my fingers tremble in writing my empty epitaph. For a blank tombstone, o'er vacant tomb.

Until the tomb beckons Until my grave is dug Until the moment breath abandons me, I am yours, as you are mine. The stars may die and the moon may fall The sun may turn to ash and ember. But until that final ray shines on me, I am yours, to command. Till the torrent of life gushing through my veins pumping through my lungs throbbing in my heart dries, and is gone completely, I am yours, till the end of days. And on that final day, give me leave, to let go of the reins on this loyal dog, let me feel the sun and the wind. So I may stand besides you, unfettered. And give voice to my loyalty, afore the darkness takes me.

Cursed, fateful day that would see my king brought low by betrayal of blood and kin. 'Pon crooked spire my lord's body lays, and we, who yet live, have but this to say. Damnation! To Hell and beyond, you may have our lives and heads, but you will never rule here, as our rightful lord. As needs be, to defend cold crown, our lives are but leaves upon wind, and proudly do we throw them down. So come here, villain, and face good men with honest hearts. That would yet face thee, before we go, unbowed, to our Gods. Besides the broken crown for the lost throne, for King gone to eternal rest. Come! Come hither, ye villain! And put our loyalty to the test.

He ruled through fear for he was himself fearful. He ruled with might for he thought it made right. He ruled, for he thought it raised him above hurt. He reveled in pain, for he thought that, in giving it, he was exempted. He ruled a broken kingdom, over a broken populace. And when death came for him, he ruled over none, save himself. An old broken man, beset by fear, living a hurtful life, bereft of joy. Alone, as a hermit, seeking no company and rejecting all. He ruled over an empty shell. Pavore Dominatus.

There’s no such thing as a kingsroad There is only the path he makes. No gifts can ever be given to him There is only that which he takes. There’s no such thing as the kingsroad No highway to be named. For where he walks and what he does Is the path he blazes with fame. Made of bone and flesh and steel In the fires of Hel itself wrought. Alone walks the king these days On a road stained with regret and loss.

Look past the smile Look into my eyes. Do I look like the kind of kind man who likes to make balloons and faces so children can smile? See farther, beyond that face, beyond the colors and the paint. Do I look like the kind of person who, in spare time, would take the effort to do something remotely nice? But I do. I laugh, I joke, I prance about. Trying ever so hard for a laugh. Failing, but never falling, never stopping, never surrendering, never listening to the crowd. For, once upon a time, a different kind of smile graced another face, quite like mine. And the screams that followed were of a different kind. Now I pay the price, I pay them all back. A smile for a tear, a laugh for a life. A tyrant for a clown. A fair exchange. Look into my eyes, look past my artificial smile, and tell me truly. Do you want to see what I look like, behind the paint?

My dream was taken from me In dead of night. I wallowed in sorrow, in blood I did confide. My blood betrayed me, For misguided right. I called for kin, And in heart I did confide. My heart was blinded, With only gold in sight. I called till my heart broke, And in faith I did confide. And now I stand, Bereft of faith. For it is now That all is laid bare. It was faith all along That was the cause. It was faith that took dream From my dreaming eyes. It was faith that stole My kin’s hand from mine. It was faith that stole My heart from mine. It was faith all along, Faithless faith. Fated to betray, For it is it’s perfidious way. No more, I do declare No more unheard prayer. No more a slave to fate. No more this slavish salve, This faithless faith