Tuesday 25 June 2013

The beckoning, the reckoning.

Sitting atop a hilly facade
The memories, they seem to consume
So disillusioned by this meaningless charade
I spew back all the love they presume

Wilting in terror of an unknown future
A paradox, this life, can it go any further?
A light beckons, it promises to nurture
Maybe someday, we'll know one another 

dominium arcanorum

Arcanorum - Mysterious, obscure, you. 

Obscure to the world. They deem you an angel, hah! They don't know. 
Woe the fate of the one who loves you. He did not fathom what he was getting into. The dream took a u-turn! Help, but nobody can help! Shout, but nobody will listen. Trapped, yes you are! Bang the doors, but you can't escape the travesty.. the charade that's been played. 

This is history repeating itself. From the mother to the son. Only the roles reversed. The fate of the mother, the fate of the son. The self-righteousness of the mother's husband, the role of the son's wife. Aah, history seems to be repeating itself, but in a different manner. 

Smug, you are. But for how long? All things wither, so will you and so will I. In front of our Lord, we will bow. Why this cruelty, Lord? I shall ask. The Lord shall pass his judgement and one will be wrong. Either you or either I.

Love turns to hate, hate turns to love. Each passing day, the image of meeting the Lord before my time is due becomes more intense. But the thought turns to, ''before my time is due.'' Oh, if only there was a way to escape the hell-fire. That it will be worse than here baffles. So, looks like a long life for you, son. Strike up your poise, face it head on. You will fall, you will hurt, you will be broken. But get up. The child becomes a boy, the boy becomes a man, the man becomes an elder, the one thing that remains is the hope, ''It will get better.'' The false hope. 

The false hope keeps you going. Ending it will only make it worse.