by LISA SERRATO
Hidden shadows form,
running breath ceases.
numbness overtakes the soul,
and heaven’s wings rot to oblivion.
overflowing flames turn to ash all of innocence,
showering hope drowns all belonging to faith.
living in exile,
excluded from the reigning light,
nothing can save or be saved.
all must fall victim to the plague,
giving up their position of judgment in reality.
nothing more than a mere dream,
not a nightmare at all.
sleep’s captivity remains firm and possessive,
a shred of humanity will not loosen the icy grasp.
all have battles to win and lose,
none have a better purpose.
like the rose’s bud,
even the mighty must be trimmed down to be born anew.
That is why pandemonium is ensured,
to live a life of tranquility and bliss is to be ignorant of pain.
burdens exists to remind the lost of their punishment,
and forgiveness exists to give birth to caution.
modifications, fabrications, illusions, and visions…
What greater good is accomplished through the sin of desire?