Author Topic: Incanate of Ink  (Read 665 times)

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June 06, 2010, 07:55:15 PM
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  • A Familiar Feature

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If what i have is who i am
than can i understand
that what rests on the surface of my palm
is but a strand of a 'man'
and that my hands crush the image
of my master plan unfinished
left vague and incomplete
to be painted by the the elite
because my pain comes from defeat
but the ashes tend to leak
and stir within the wind
and rekindled learn
to burn with passion from within
and lit ablaze my fragments rage
separated in this stage
but to be united in this age
because of all the things i gave
the blood lost will be regained
and my legacy remade
told over and over
by an ink blot portrait
of myself on this god forsaken page
because i see only me
reflected in this script
and i've ripped
the truth from myself
so i could really see what if
but now a shred of a shadow
i walk wildly through waves of wasteland
that taste just like the clay
that feed my ravenous
soul through out the day
and they came as force
to guide me to the sea
and help me set truth free
so that it would fly from myself
on the page right back to me
the incarnation of this ink
incomplete has no soul to think
and as hope sinks into the scribbles
the poor copy of my life
restored into the gorgeous
work of art once made of light
i forged it from my anguish
and hoped it would prevail
but robbing it of something
its heart began to fail
now i attempt to reseal the hope and
its faith
but alas
it has lost me
now a whisper
now a wraith
the fire swallowed by the wind
the night's untouched virgin skin
never spoiled by the moon
no glares cast from its sin
the eyes of this lunar lust
a mockery of sun lights touch
its embrace a cold harsh tomb
that freezes all within the wound
what would've healed
has naught the chance
but hopeful pen strokes
stir flames to dance
those phoenix kin know its name
the lord of dawn
its golden frame
a gilded fame
never lessened by his pain
just a kiss from pen to page
will make sense of this
messy stain
"...There is simply The Way, and he who follows it must know when to act and in what way to act.  Sometimes it is to the right, other times to the left.  An initiate acknowledges no difference...." Veos.