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From Death Forges Life (plz comment)
written by darkness_follows_me04:57 PM 3/14/05A chattering skull impaled upon a lonely sharpened spear,
With one end planted firmly in the hoary earth,
And the other thrust aloft defiantly into the blackened sky.
The spearhead, forged by the greatest of blacksmiths using the purest of steel,
Smithed upon the mightiest of anvils to the sharpest of points,
And tempered in the hottest of fires to the surest of strength.
The shaft, hewn from the tallest of oaks
With the tightest of all grains
To yield the truest of all flights.
The blacksmith worked through the cold of many nights,
Dancing in the moonlight with a great shower of white-hot sparks,
To make his last work his finest.
Through many ages the spear survived, never failing in its task.
Now alone in a field it stands for all eternity;
This field, once the site of many ancient battles, now within my mind.
A chattering skull impaled upon the lonely sharpened spear,
With one end planted firmly in the hoary earth,
And the other thrust aloft defiantly into the blackened sky.
A bloody crown of thorns lies on the barren earth beneath the spear,
A crown once worn when the skull breathed life
And the missing body trod the land.
I do not know if I should fear the skull,
Or welcome it with open arms,
Whether I should embrace it so, or if it will cause me harm.
Perhaps it is the skull of the blacksmith,
Impaled upon his own masterpiece
That has stood the test of time.
Perhaps it is the skull of the man who lives inside my head,
The man who can be summoned forth
With black candles and a pen.
Or perhaps it is the skull of the man who represents my future,
The nights of torment and torture when I try to rest
But am met with fitful slumber.
Why does the skull keep haunting me,
Chattering, chattering in my sleep?
And how does something that is dead keep me so alive? |
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