Shadows and Blood
Years have past and I find myself getting older, I ask for the strength to bare my own
hand and prevent further dreams of destruction.
Such a dream that comes true is all so more real than breathing and yet it occurs to me
that every thought is inevitable and uncontrollable.
A laps in hope and fate becomes an illusion with guilt and regret, we cannot be who we are
without the pains of life.
Every perfection is a limited breath upon our tomb and renders us weak against the demands
of the modern world.
My physical being is the lie of an absent shell, its life is but a mere paradox in time
without the past to interfere.
A shadow in the light is hopeful in its existence but regrets the fact that it can’t be
bled. We are slaves to our own weakness and illusion.
A shadow has no mental or physical body to relate? Yet it is there and affects us in a
silent degree. You will only see your blood when you are cut from the shell
We are all, but in one’s self, shadow’s and blood, without and within all concept.
Copyright © Bellantony De Mertens | Year Posted 2011
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