armak-d

fear, empowering, knowing, intense ..... alive, a murky conciousness, struggling, screaming, demanding to be heard. I am, afraid. awareness of self, of limitations and boundaries, encircling, defining, why ? what ? standing outside looking within, I see a smouldering flame, my fear, eaisly fed, driven to rage, consuming all, leaving naught but ash, a hollow and destroyed beauty within desolate landscapes of the mind, ruins within, charred and blackened, empty, abandoned .... OLD forgotten memories, indeed, best left, forgotten.

a slow transient, across the aching sky a lightest blue, through a darker hue fading, fading, into deepest black like inky pitch, thick, oppressive senses dulled, sharpened, ill used, ill adjusted, the minds eye, open, just. a gust of wind, a creak of oak, a shuffle from behind, touch, like a lovers caress, soft but cold fear.

Night I walk alone, shrouded by the dark of a moonless night, I am upon a trail, to where I know not, How I came to be here, I know not, and something follows ..... There is a breeze, chill and fell, a smell of .... something, Bourne by air, it crawls upon my skin, The feel, the sense, the very taste of it, causes nameless dread, and still something follows ..... The trees I pass, they whisper to me, I know not what they say, A language lost ages past, yet familiar, haunting, I know that I must continue on, regardless, for something follows ..... The trail ahead, becomes difficult, strewn with rock and branch As though to slow m

Lens I approach with fear, in my heart The lens that is my life Dare I look ? Dare I not ? They are always there The thoughts, that all, must one day face, Have I achieved what it is that I want ? Have I become who it is that I want ? The sense of fulfilment, contentment, Despair …… The past is there, buried Remembered in brief, but vivid flashes The fondest moments, with heart aching melancholy Offset by those darkest memories, painful and wretched All define who I am, who I shall be. For who I was is as dust in the wind, I am who I am, changed, indelibly, By those things I see through the lens that is my life, Has been my

over No, not yet, not yet .... coals within, smouldering a fire yet to burn, needing fuel, but fuel found where ? Within a heart ? one which is cold, no i think not for frozen it seems, perhaps one day. Within the eyes ? looking through me, no i think not for glassy they are, caring not at all. Within the hands ? a touch like death, no i think not no feeling do they convey, making my flesh crawl. Within your voice ? a poetic lyrical tone, no i think not full of hash, critical words, not what i remember. Living together, yet apart holding the tenuous hope, that things can come back, Tolerance, for who's sake ?

Rain pure, clear falling from cloudless skies renewing the earth soaking new life into parched ground letting grow the things which keep our world fresh like love from afar, freely given asking nothing but just by being, breaths new life into those whom have the need

requiem does the man make his life ? or is he shaped ..... moulded into something that, life would have him be .... questing, a lifes work, undone ? or unfullfilled ? worry or nay, for life goes on uncaring, or devestated ? fates scheme denied, or a mans life his own ? choices, by design or chance, made upon experience, shaped by life, shaped by love