Work Text:
It's an unknown hour,
an unknown day,
I stumble in blind.
I trudge forward amongst the waves,
I hear the ring of a clock tower in the distance,
I watch as the fog rolls in,
I notice the out of place palace,
As if in backdrop to the landscape.
I head inside the spacious permafrost,
spanning this thing you call a 'heart',
is it just foolishness that I turn in hope?
If there is nothing past the fog,
nothing past the desires,
nothing beyond the toll that beckons death,
will what I have written at least be spread?
Be read?
Be spoken aloud?
Be plastered as graffiti at the end of a lane?
Be shown in a conference as some showpiece without my word?
Can I truly chance a change in direction?
Can I really believe in others to change a thing?
Can I even rely on myself to believe?
Would you see anything of mine,
with those tainted eyes,
that have seen nests of suffering,
and had to turn my back with a frown?
Is it any fair to compare,
my sadness and their own,
is it like a raging inferno,
or a tide that pulls you down under,
will those small heartfelt blessings of mine purge the madness,
the pain that flows from heart to heart?
Will this sincerity and this truth root itself from even my own heart in the end?
Will my face be the face of disbelief?
Will I doubt even my own merits and achievements?
Will I do the right thing,
it's a paradox,
I can't always know.
I fight my own heart as I watch,
as I struggle to find those words,
the ones carved into my soul,
can I even know?
It's simple,
I say this with a dour laugh,
nothing is ever simple,
nothing is ever easy.
The chances I have been given,
will time allow them to flourish,
or will it be weathered in a storm of fantasy?
Will I try to narrate my ideal then,
if I cannot express it with my own body or life?
Is it wrong to hope,
that my words touch at least a soul,
set them down a path I could not,
leave them with a weight and give them a spark in turn.
Let that spark burn away all doubt,
this is it!
My voice rings out,
with gratitude and hope.
This small spark will turn all anxieties to ash!
This is all I can hope for now,
these penned words,
this world,
please save it for those who can truly live.
Even if it ends me,
especially if it ends the suffering of those who crave death,
unknowing of their own worth in this world,
a tick of a clock in the distance that rings everything closer,
in this world,
with these words in their hearts,
Even if the spark burns everything else,
even if it burns me,
especially if it burns my dread.