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THE PROPHET

Contributed by shahan on Thursday, 25th March 2004 @ 06:33:04 PM in AEST
Topic: DarkPoetry

He did not see the king,
In the world of futility,
The king was the only truth.
He searched the truth,
On a chariot of light,
Started his crossing,
Crossed the night, crossed the day
He...walked on...walked on...
The road never touched before.

The beauty is the curse,
He looked around,
The soldier of customs,
Glared at him-
"Don't cross the line."
The line, the line...
Where was the line?
The hidden knife
Pierced the heart.
Still...
He...walked on... walked on...
The road never touched before.

The road was not simple.
He searched for hell.
Hell remained nothing
Heaven told the hideous tale.

Life is an ugly tale,
Told by the feeble seed,
He spat at the story
The story just gathered round him.
Still...
He... walked on...walked on...
The road never touched before.

He tasted all the vile,
He drank the charm
Of life...
Everything remained out of reach
The bare verses shook the life.

The girls asked him,
"Touch the beauty,
Stop a bit."
He shook his head.
Still a lot to go.

The men told him,
"Stop the flight,
The king said so."
He shook his head,
Where was the end?

He reached the end of road,
Shattered with fright,
He came to realize,
There was no end.
He sighed, took a breath
And still...
He... walked on...walked on...
The road never touched before.

The soldier of customs appeared again,
" Don't move,
That is the end of road.
The king allowed no more."

He turned around,
Watched the soldiers,
Replied with the sweetest tone,
"The king is dead."

Copyright © shahan ... [ 2004-03-25 18:33:04]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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