The Dying Rage

Where did the fight begin?

I find no signs in.

Why can I not breathe?

What is this happening?

Look in the ashes,

maybe they have the answers 

to what is dead now and

what is coming.

Hooked my soul

to the chains of remorse

and to the vines of a graveyard,

and lay there alone.

Are my senses hypnotised

Or tell me what it is.

Not the touch of skin

nor their breathing,

I can feel nothing.

Look in the ashes,

maybe they have the answers

to what is dead now and

what is coming.

Break me free from this misery.

Take me along, make me feel

or let me stay with

the dying rage

of my destiny.

Fading Storm

Sometimes I hear ,
myself in a calm place
and a casual time,
with the shadows of stars,
under the bright moonlight;
on the streets,
where a mother holds a child,
protecting her love,
them satisfying their hunger,
in a good warm supper.

Oh dear one,
is it your smile
or the stories of the
tortured souls
playing nice for once?

Is this the cure
or an illusion of panacea ?