I Wonder If You Always Tell The Truth

Home | A Pleonexic Urge | The Root Of Motion | When The Candles Are Out | Love Songs To The Dead | Titans And Turncoats | This Lovers' Life We Lead | Prayers To A Ghost | Your Opening Eyes Nigh | The Enterprise Of The New Routine | Orphans And Demagogues | Nocturnal Emissions | The Fortune Of Failure | Transcension Beneath The Bitter Sun | Watching The Furnace Fire | Adventures Of The Crimson Enigma | Memoirs Of A Mercenary | My True History | I Never Knew Him | Midnight Rambling | From The Silence

Something

There’s something to the colour of the sky

Above the clouds that renders blind the eye

Toward the beauty of which it will find

On its return to life among its kind.

Through stained-glass windows sunlight multiplies,

Cathedral forests strike their wind-blown chimes,

Whose looping incantations softly rise

From stooping branch to constellated skies.

A tempest rising from the spirit’s last

Contorted cry before the cracked ship’s-mast

Is felled beneath the force of nature’s gasp.

My hand holds hard a storm within its grasp.