When the muse dies (or when the soul wanders off), by mcbrams
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The rough desert sands blind us,
Pierce into our eyes and render us sightless.
In this wilderness
The stark barrenness of hopeless is tangible,
As the hurt of broken dreams becomes truth
Like the tears that result when the
Laboured toil result to nothingness
Or like the eternal pursuit of the rainbow’s end
Or like a boat that sails on sea without captain
Or a soul escaped from the body of a madman.
The rough desert sands blind us,
Pierces into our eyes and renders us sightless.
And drive us to darkness
Where, in the hollow asylum
We grapple with the truth,
Searching for the lamp
And the voice of reason haunts us. And mocks us |
Posted: 2010-01-19 06:28:25 UTC |
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