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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2005-03-13 | [Acest text ar trebui citit în english] |
Who is there that understands
Holds fast upon the way See that far off stare, Knows all the bewildering rhymes of thought Grasps therein One piece of me? I dribble out where all the feelings inward share Like a tyrant to the abuse of self A proclaimed identity I, Myself Lost upon the rudiments of fanciful delight Springs to nature the battled flight I drift where the mind lost upon itself Screams tormented into that dark abyss Forbidden the weary moments pressed Crafted here, flashed and dressed Turmoil reigns its sacred way Where even the God's fear to tread. Its true I die a piece each day fading into myself every way I've lost the venture, yet gained the ground Who truly understands Insanity's sound? I grasp to the note that fills the air haunting in its choke without a care Ravished upon the mire of long faded visions Where identities press all their impressions I am as fragile as the crystal glass Emotionally bearing my very last Upon these fine threads of life so stressed The liberator a madman half undressed. Oh Parable of parables, the cleft of a lie The fragile inconsistencies that pegs a sigh. Dream on ward this illusionary flood of life That mingles my bones upon its strife. Who dares venture upon these my grounds Hold beside me frustrations mighty sounds Who cares to know the dark, dark side where tales embrace and fear does ride, Then sweep away your moments snuggle down without a frown Hold my hearts endeavors without uttering a sound Let me come within you Riding upon your dreams A demented Scotsman, or so It seems. Alisdaire O'Caoimph
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