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In The Clutches Of The Mist
"In The Clutches Of The Mist"
Scars are more than tales of an open wound
The survival of legend rests in the unexplainable
Torture devices holding on for dead life
Calling to the Heavens for a little help getting up
It's hard to stand with so much weight pushing down
With something pulling from beneath
Wielding the power to destroy the stars
Yet wondrous enough to submit to
Swearing loyalties on the foundries in broken faith
Describing itself using feelings
Emotions once hidden inside of a deep breath
Held in even if until the call of death
Unless strength is focused on prying open a cold heart
Whichever comes first will suit the tears properly
Punishment will square off against euphoria at some point
Time has a funny way of revealing things like that
Always at the uttermost moment of need
Dilemmas and choices with persuasive voices
Mocking and deceiving and provoking and achieving
The ultimate goal to conquer a soul
With or without the consent of the host
Subtle intimidation in a peaceful offering
Cloaked with secrecy
Away from the reminders the mirrors show
A horrid remnant of a sacred statue
Engraved with symbolism etched in a forgotten language
Dust and dead leaves make a bed fit for old Kings
Crowns that have long since bore precious jewels
Tarnished from being tossed away so long ago
Neglected by the weaknesses of lesser men
Tomorrow will always bring hope to the hopeful
And die in the arms of the terrible
The revelations for blank pages rely on decisions
To determine the outcome of inward reflections
Years spent in solitude and loneliness have led to this
An oath to sincerity or a path full of lies
Becoming almost violently impatient for guidance
Well before reaching readiness for the experience
Haste has forced vision to be misguided
Blind to the familiar ground below
Ancient memories are begging to be whole again
Desiring their mirage of necessity
Desperately trying to cling to what hurts
Using it as an anchor to keep from moving forward
Anger and guilt posing as comforting humility
Each step reloads the gun and cocks the hammer
The purpose for the bullet has yet to be decided
Denial cannot interfere with proper resolution
Arguing with an infinite amount of ways to calculate
Rewarding the tyrranical with treasure and power
Knowing that one day the empire would fall
How it was to be rebuilt was the question
Redemption and honor or malice and cruelty
All doors are open for anything to come through
To penetrate the skin and settle into the blood
Under all of the confusion as well as the clarity
Then points at something that hides its own eyes
A ferocious animal that feeds on what it can smell
Sinking its teeth into the pitiful
Lured into a trap that seems to have no escape
Sold on the idea that fate had taken over
But it was destiny that had just begun
What's left of the recollection begins to disappear
Fading into the darkness where it first showed its face
Reaching into the moonlight for one last touch of the silhouette
That once gave promise to the lost
Original poem by Tyler Quinn
