tears from heaven
the rain drops bleed
down they sing a song of silence
lightning strikes dead ground
red with mud,
choked and drowned
a veiw of Paradise
mimic mirrors to the soul
a physical entity it now becomes
my face it wears..
worn out worn in..
dust gathers on the mirrors view
me looking in .. me looking out
reality takes on new perspective
the living become the dead
the rain no more drowns
this world in which i view
through my mirror..
now a dry barron figure
the desert cracks with
empty promises and broken hope
past becomes now and my mind travels back
a child catches a butterfly.. studies its
beauty in which can be seein in all things..
unclasping his hands.. away it flys hopes with it..
i see a man prime now passed old and withered he lay..
wings of a butterfly
torn off and kept
for their beautiful...
the same child who once saw beauty in all life ..
now see's beauty in the torn of wings of a dead butterfly
..
and all things turn a different shade
Autumn leaves / a golden brown
never before has death looked so beautiful...
and still.. the thought troubles me ..
a window to the soul ..
a soul of golden brown
an aging soul, impressed by nothing more then butterfly wings..
but not the butterfly..