Aug 28, 2009


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In a gray land, where the sound of
children's laughter is never heard,
the raven is the master,
tomorrow holds no promise, save death.
The land is barren, it gives no yield,
and every mother's son weeps tears of fire,
for the future has forsaken him,
and his generation knows only sorrow.
In the dim, smoky light of evening,
no rest is come, only the screams
of the dying and the stench of plague.
No one prays, or wishes, or even hopes,
how can they when there is nothing
to hope for, nothing to dream but evil,
nothing to wake to.
Only the same sense of losing something
you never had and ceaseless toil
for an unseen master....Suddenly,
the bastard, he comes running,
foaming at the mouth, greedy for your soul,
and you try to scream as he sucks your breath.
In the last brutal moments of your dream,
his excitement peaks, and he howls
as you wake up, screaming at the dawn.

In those still morning hours,
you tell yourself,
i am the still water, i am calm,
i am comforted by love.
The soothing touch blankets me,
i am at peace, i am love.
Love is the guide, the way finder.
Love will show true direction.
Love will protect and keep me free,
but deep down you know he is just hiding now,
waiting for another dream.

Creative Commons License
This work by mysticdave is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.


  1. Fantastic style on this work. Very well crafted.

  2. Very heart-felt. Profound thoughts molded into a unique expression of self.