Consecrated Grounds

Clinging on to silence When there’s nothing to behold In the mirror of this earthly Visage growing old Beneath what now just lingers In this quieting despair There lies an open graveyard Begging for your care The flowers here are wilting All the children turn away And in that I am haunted There is no such thing as play My voice sings of confusion When I ask for your embrace Instead I speak of lacking And why it’s you that I should blame Now alone beside the mirror This old man is close to truth And as he fades into the nightmares He recalls what stole his youth Stalking through the darkness A passenger of pain “It is I that haunts this graveyard” And then he spoke his name Awake and overflowing With the senses I thought gone The old man in the mirror Is now a child with a song