November 1, 2010 § Leave a comment

Living a life of allegorical moments
If you cannot trace crimson ribbons
You are a soul unseeking, questions unasked
You are blind to the stories you follow

You are no different from generations before you
Now silenced beneath your soles
But answers sought and prayers scrawled out
In fragile pages of wisdom unturned

Secrets beneath streetlights whisper but you
Won’t listen
Breath caught in the pain of the moment

But beneath rows of flowers lie lines of remains
The harvest from a garden of stones
Seeds that end in the empty beginning
Of the life they would never have known

Flames of destruction lap at cast iron gates
Ashes to ashes and you are only flesh
Choose your path in the light of sacrifice
For you can’t have beginning and end



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