(The walker on the rain)
Icy threads absconding heaven,
Such delicate exiles cast down unto earth,
I've cried tears of the blackest glass,
Yet my eyes, my hands, are now uplifted…
Growing paler like death itself,
My fingers outstretched…
Mingling with numerous trickling shards,
Chilling little rivers coiling and coursing across my flesh,
In their elegant trails now emerges a glistening sorrow,
Like an undefiled wound, brimming with the beauty of crimson,
And in this pulchritude…
I abandon my heart, not unto this mortal world,
But unto all untold beauty such as this,
And in this resolve…
I yearn my release from these human veils,
To cast down this flesh….
And pass forever, into the ether….
(The cherished wound)
My soul as a structure carved from grief,
My body, as a broken and bleeding husk, at last free from the
fires of agony,Yet these wounds in the darkened recesses of my
being, move me even more deeply,
Those unfathomed, bleeding hollows engulfed with frost,
Of such cold as to repel the roots of the soul,
Yet not unlike any cold that I have felt before,
I have grown tired of this meaningless pulse,
This wretched lonely beating, still yet to be annulled,
Its very echo drives me uncontrollably to tears,
A grim, nauseous resound,
Weakening in me, the will of humanity,
I welcome the dying of a light inside,
The warmth of my blood finally leaving me,
My breath thin and faltering as a frail mist to the wrath of the sun,
My soul ebbs silently away,
And As I abandon the weight of my flesh,
I cherish this wound….
