Dark Monuments

Light and Dark – yamabuki
“Once upon a midnight dreary, 
while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious 
volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, 
suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, 
rapping at my chamber door.
`’Tis some visitor,’ I muttered, 
`tapping at my chamber door –
Only this, and nothing more.'”
– Edgar Allan Poe

And is eternity’s time not enough
Endless years of witches tears
Shuttered in conformity
Giving Caesar his due
And failing at failure
Though beginning again anew
Is this a different kind of failure
With the only lessons learned
Being the uncertainty of words
To convey the meanings of Sun and Moon
In which ever way we are led
Are you disposed to follow
To Venture forth blindly
To the ends of Hades
Where the yellow fog’s musings
Find black squalor’s vision
A requiem of ghostly figures
That marches in tune to evil eyes
Yes eyes of evil live here too
In this imprecision of fleeing leaves
Leaving feelings broken in their wake
Falling on shattered halls and bloody hills
Who will carry them now 
By what strength and conformity
Will they be subdued 
And will they then be cast
Back home into the fiery pits
Denied entry to the hallowed ways
Out sourced to hell’s obscurity
These are our teachers too
These lost devils and damned souls
Our children know them as well
With that secret knowledge they own
Their love of the moonless dark
Their wild rides that challenge death
They seek not our protection
And long for those forbidden places
Where their dark rituals are learned
That they may break the cords
That bind them roughly
For having nothing of their own
They seek new ways to live
Old fools surely know this
They feel the world’s turning
And churning of the fogs of time
For time is no enemy to us
Young and old alike
We know of death’s door
Its wayward intensity beckoning
With that screaming orgasm of eternity
That fiery lifetime of burning 
In sacred fires that are coming
Leaving old stones gasping
And rasping in broken awe
Do you long for the coolness
When evening turns to starlight
The quiet of trees sleeping
The end of weeping shadows
The healing of mournful whispers
Would you hear it arriving 
A wind blown from nowhere
Shattering chaos in its wake
And nothing is left but shades
We old fools know of death
His face is strangely familiar
But our going is not always smooth
Easy passage, for young or old
Is seldom a given path
Death’s intensity is our song too
Sung unknowingly loud
And shared in concerts of blood
With frozen notes of icy wind
Leaving only desolation’s chill
As our final bodily cry
yamabuki
April 2011
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