Friday, February 5, 2010

As the rusty cabins where the soul is held

Gripped and chained like breathless birds

A voice that seems choked and dry

Tries to scream out its words, heavy, but creaked.

As the solemn woods dark and deep

Lay unearthed in the wet soil

The creek sounds of the beetles and hoppers

Streak through the silence in the darkened mellow.

As silence engulfs and suffocates the ears

The creaks that are feeble are heard in fear

Those arms try to break the chains

And burst out into the world of ignorance.

A streak of hope within the soul

That is left empty to be filled in full

There are faces that hide behind armours

Those seem strong and rigid but are just false masks.

The darkness has now swallowed up the ray

And made the vision black and none

The senses are open like alert alarms

But there are confused strings that chain the soul tight.


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