Candles snuffed out
rows and rows of them...
...wicks of lights lit up to burn along the length of the night
dedicated to float in the moonlit river
till they are swallowed by distant stars..
Images come and go'
a ceaseless yarn of surreal emblems
signifying nothing.
This is no quest my dear in-dweller.
Admit, that I am an incomplete answer to a question you never asked,
and an unheard echo to a response I never made.
Let us agree to abide by the cruel laws we gave our consent to...
when we encountered our alter-egos in the wilderness of love..
Now it's futile for me to complain
because I never wrote the script.
I stood by , fearful and shy
and watched my shadow shrink and flee
from the demons I could not see.
It was a midnight you told me to yield to--
a midnight that stood nearby and waited and watched
while I fumbled for the way.
You always had a way with the words,
ambiguous at the best and ambivalent at their worst,
And I had nothing to show me the way except the words
vanishing shred by shred in the dark of the midnight.
It's the end of the night or the end of the day, a beginning of the midnight or the dawn of the ray,
the ray of the moon or the sun?
There is no shadow that can tell the difference between the day and the looming dark'
Go out and have a smoke, wherever you be;
and let that be the drop of light that I may see
from my wide-open window upon the oceans of sleep
and dream that you may be thinking of me.
My in-dweller, you are a strange identity,
always along with me
and yet an enigma ,
holding my essence a hostage,
holding my secret being,
a thought living on the periphery,
half revealed and half concealed.
That is the way we always walk.
This duality is essential to keep us alive.
The light of the revelation is no candle;
it's a conflagration no rain can douse.
rows and rows of them...
...wicks of lights lit up to burn along the length of the night
dedicated to float in the moonlit river
till they are swallowed by distant stars..
Images come and go'
a ceaseless yarn of surreal emblems
signifying nothing.
This is no quest my dear in-dweller.
Admit, that I am an incomplete answer to a question you never asked,
and an unheard echo to a response I never made.
Let us agree to abide by the cruel laws we gave our consent to...
when we encountered our alter-egos in the wilderness of love..
Now it's futile for me to complain
because I never wrote the script.
I stood by , fearful and shy
and watched my shadow shrink and flee
from the demons I could not see.
It was a midnight you told me to yield to--
a midnight that stood nearby and waited and watched
while I fumbled for the way.
You always had a way with the words,
ambiguous at the best and ambivalent at their worst,
And I had nothing to show me the way except the words
vanishing shred by shred in the dark of the midnight.
It's the end of the night or the end of the day, a beginning of the midnight or the dawn of the ray,
the ray of the moon or the sun?
There is no shadow that can tell the difference between the day and the looming dark'
Go out and have a smoke, wherever you be;
and let that be the drop of light that I may see
from my wide-open window upon the oceans of sleep
and dream that you may be thinking of me.
My in-dweller, you are a strange identity,
always along with me
and yet an enigma ,
holding my essence a hostage,
holding my secret being,
a thought living on the periphery,
half revealed and half concealed.
That is the way we always walk.
This duality is essential to keep us alive.
The light of the revelation is no candle;
it's a conflagration no rain can douse.
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