That have endured over the years
Like the oil of machines
Those are their tears
People walk by but nobody hears
The many machines can be heard crying
Muffled in their cries in cities that are dying
Choking on the smoke filled streets of gloom
I sit here silently in my cluttered room
Abandonment of the world is on my mind
That somehow through all the tears
I might find
Those elusive shadows that lurk
In the background of
The inner recesses of thought
In empty corridors from that which is wrought
The eyes which see of visions blurred
In its stillness I can hear the rain
Words written in vain upon paper
To express all of the inner pain
Perhaps it might reduce some of my fear
If there was but one ear
That could see the tears of all the others
Unborn children yet to know their mothers
In their cradles sleeping gently
Upon the clouds that I have painted
Upon the walls inside their minds
Shimmering lights that are so bright
In direct contrast to that which blinds
Hopes not yet realized whereas to prevent
The dashing of dreams upon rocks
Hewn from smiling faces that look upon the sea
This is the juxtaposition within my paradox
Acceptance from leaps of faith
How well does the mind fare
Foolish believers in myth fabled images
Where only a journeying mind might dare
To grasp the lid of the horizon
In a tell tale heart that slowly beats
The moon peeks over the dusk of night
Where the bloody horizon partly meets
Unborn ewes who dream in their mothers wombs
Unaware of the waiting tombs
They are led to slaughter much in likeness
To the tears that stain my mind
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
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