postmodern

postmodern

Saturday, February 20, 2010

Tangle of thorns

I'm a tangle of thorns on the wide shoulders of god
I'm a piper sitting beneath the gates of iron
I’m stilling the winds, chaining myself to heaven
While clashing earth razes the temples of solitude

Whose pinnacles soar, skyward, like points of a star
While I dream of paradise with shining eyes of hope
The journey and I, two souls standing as One
Lone beating heart, our breath intermingled

Rushing out into a day full of cruel talons
Reinventing the wheel that birth bestowed
Every wound strengthening my determination                    
My pale fire roaring like the sound of many waters

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