Sunday, February 13, 2011

A Place to Heal...

A tormented soul withers
And the peace it seeks it seeks in vain
Were all that is held inside to come out
I’d hardly know what to do with what remains
But the inside feels foreign
A stranger in the making
One hand held out and one held up
Will you grab on or ignore what stirs through your veins?
The tempest forms, and from it we run or embrace
The destructiveness in our nature
And its treacherous, at times delicious taste
But it’s a wound that drives the madness
Yes it’s a wound that pushes you forward
Were we to be struck down by our foe we’d find our wounds much deeper than we ever could have dreamed
The blood would run down and on the ground
As breath becomes shallow and light faded
… So we find our resting place
So the dark becomes the light
Suddenly we find it’s that time under in which our recovery is sought
The maiming the conditioning of starting anew
But that the battle was the strengthening of your hand
Bringing you to a journey of the will
What you have before you is the road to be traveled
And though you may face battles again, you can conquer still ...