The ringing

The subtlety with which,
The winds casts the shadows on
Your blackened, bloodied heart,
Can’t hold on par with anything in
Stark contrast. If you choose to be
The white light, feel free to ignore,
The shades of rain,
The smell of smoke and
The gleam of the metal at twilight;
And the singing of the stars will subdue.
Your mortal soul
Will be ripped from its rim, but
In its broken shards,
You might find the smile of the sweet child;
Her eyes sparking, as the woman determines
Death’s own demise;
Out of misery, every man shall survive,
Out of prejudice you will find,
The purest of love that doesn’t
Require the unnecessary chase,
It’s the deal with endless darkness,
But, when you find the cure to the pain of the rest,
May be, just may be, you will be at peace, at last.

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