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Lumus -> Poetry (1/12/2008 8:11:52 PM)
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Finally. A bit of quiet time for my brain. And naturally, the writing bug bites. I wonder what this says about my mood:
UNDREAMT
ravens whisper in my head
the twin gates shut the world away
and in that blinding blackened void
the red mist stirs and spreads
light forgotten fades to motes
and tidal winds recede, return
in rhythm with a secret stone
that trembles silent, still
dark wings rustle in the cave
conduits hum with energy
memory murmurs, flowing free
drowns the breath of reason
a mountain stabs into the sky
and from the highest precipice
a tree is bent, limbs twitch and dance
weary, worn, with no recourse
shrill sounds echo, discordant
distorted by the length of time
to comforting incoherence
and dwindle into death
blanketed by a graveyard
reason surrenders to instinct
all is spent, consumed and absent
but nothing ever ends
a lullaby of ravens
a sanctuary made of whispers
borne gently in their folded wings
from madness, to madness
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