Like a mirror
sometimes my eyes peer through
between the heavy coat of lead
the visited phantom of myself
laying there upon its own death bed
awaiting in the silence, the fallen tear
That would drench my soul back again to life.
I walk the long shadow floods of what
in all truth holds neither reason nor folly
just a constant unissued enterprise
that daunts my horizon from day to day
I wear the wings of fancy, dress my face
so that the pantomime of life appears real
contented to a world of lies
I bed myself down into the slumber
Of long wishes and dreams.
Who truly listens?
that ears may surge upon me
hear the plead of countless generations
that weep the discord of where they are
all lost, these Souls of the night
To find the rescue in the solitude of sleep.
To drift the soft banks of illusions depth
And there call it reality.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph