Blunting the Blade

My wishes abound
But my plate is empty still.
There's peace to be found
Over the hill.

My strings are all strained
With worldly tunes.
The drapes are all stained
With mystic runes.

If you don't
Find me midst yourself,
If you care enough to see,
You'll find me gazing,
Searching the sky,
Blunting the blade.

Bunch O' my Brain - Pointless

The knot is back, it feeds on peace.
Not in my heart, not in my mind.
Nowhere and everywhere at the same time,
It feeds on purpose, and discredits life.

Justice, delivered.

I will sit right under your wings and
I will peep out every other day.
To see what's become of my world,
To see the fires burning.
They will face my wrath and drown in vain
When I cry my burning tears of pain.
Let the mountains crumble when its dawn
And the morning will play my serenade.

My name's seared in their memories
And they cry to me when in pain.
But I will rain hail upon them and
Watch them cry out louder still.
For the filth that they have brewed inside
Makes me look away in hate.
The time to put an end to it all
Its time they faced their final fall.

Hear the message ringing on the wind
When I call to them in a violent way.
The colours melt before my eyes
And they gape at floating oceans of grey.
The dream I wrought breaks below me
As the hand mars that which it had made.
The light fades from the horizon
And the orb fails into darkness.

Thinking on the move - reversion into reclusion

The last time these wheels were in motion, you were on a quest; a quest for simple joy. Myriad thoughts about the world and your significance in the scheme of bigger things were top most in your stack. Your raw understanding of the fundamentals of reclusion brewed a withdrawal beyond materialistic aversion - a consequence of chewing your mental gum for too long, and too fast. Sliding down an acute slope, you felt the world slip away. The Shylock inside you demanded his pound of flesh, not ready to be a victim of the others that made your being. You obliged, with a sincerity that you dared not meddle with. The path into normality was suddenly in front of you. Tugging at the rope, you felt human. Supporting and being supported at the same time, a semblance of emotion seeped in. New waters, unknown landscapes splashed onto your canvas. At first, there were colours, bright and beautiful. Then there were shades of grey. Like the onset of fuzzy logic into a binary system, your mind revolted. Change was evident and imminent - it was you against your mind all over again. The greys of the mind and the greys in the heart collided. A flurry of smoke ensued, leaving your mind victorious.

What started out as a process of redemption, has now left you more aware of yourself. Shylock is now dead. A cold mercenary resides in his stead. His sword weighs you down; the ground is sloping yet again, steeper into reclusion, deeper into void. Your mind plays captain again, steering an empty vessel now, which yearns for the open seas, and lonely serenity.

Too Cold

I sever these strings
With pain in my eyes
The sun goes down today
With a hue of sadness.

There's not much to say
But these words will stay
True to my self and
Shielding my faith.

I'm too cold for you,
I'm a winter thats white.
You're the summer that shines
And cries sometimes too.

The winds in my courtyard
Freeze the frost I own.
It blinds all my sorrow
And gets me through.

The nights seemed so short
When we walked, and we talked.
The days stretched its wings
When my mind rebelled.

I'm afraid of this change
That leads me away
From the space I hold dear
And the paths I have known.

Forgive my intrusion
But I meant it well.
We will find our peace,
And our laughter, my friend.