Pending Scales

Motto: Then they fell from thy eyes.

With the old shadows, desolation is my only mask;

I keep my fears off whenever I preach- the way

the mighty sword caresses the unrolling dice,

the ultimate void laughing in my face.

Again.

Tranquility - just a nocturnal remedy in all kinds of weather

I’m the fallen whisperer; my injured attempts are

Up to fate, my defiant whereabouts out-of-reach;

Anywhere under the sun is my home,

Anywhere under the moon I will hide-and-seek.

We still have our words, don’t we?

Our pride to share- are the skies the limit no more?

My prayers are voiceless, my paths have been crossed,

My tables turned down so often. One

can either move on or stare

for a sensory fairy-tale to decompose.

I envy the wild horses' graves

They never have to cry. There is no imperfection.

No make-believe. Whatever the records, the odds,

We have been cursed for too long.