DeadReligion
09-12-2006, 09:14 PM
I actually like this piece a lot. Woohoo. Oh, sorry, I forgot that the standard color is that new silver for the background, when I log in, it always turns to the original blue that the site had when I originally came on.
White Stains and Gray Skies Of The Future
The white stains of reflection on the window,
Show the grayest sky mankind has ever seen.
In the future, some would hope for a world without a sky,
A world without the gray, a world without torture nor toil.
Impossibility is the word that comes to my mind.
Without bad there is no good.
No light to look up and smile at.
And though I look for my own utopia
It is impossible. All we can do…is lessen the pain.
Hold the dying in our arms, instead of pushing them off the cliff.
There is an ascension in the tension.
It lives up high, on snow-capped mountains.
In the passing cloud, looking up at the moon.
That huge circle of emptiness.
Just another entity in the sky, with no answers.
The tension is felt through the shaking finger,
On the back of the blade.
In the watery blood that falls from the wound.
In the crying friend’s hand that tries to stop the bleeding.
And the injured man holding on to the edge of the volcano.
The tension is built, and the common ground fell
Into liquid hot magma.
White Stains and Gray Skies Of The Future
The white stains of reflection on the window,
Show the grayest sky mankind has ever seen.
In the future, some would hope for a world without a sky,
A world without the gray, a world without torture nor toil.
Impossibility is the word that comes to my mind.
Without bad there is no good.
No light to look up and smile at.
And though I look for my own utopia
It is impossible. All we can do…is lessen the pain.
Hold the dying in our arms, instead of pushing them off the cliff.
There is an ascension in the tension.
It lives up high, on snow-capped mountains.
In the passing cloud, looking up at the moon.
That huge circle of emptiness.
Just another entity in the sky, with no answers.
The tension is felt through the shaking finger,
On the back of the blade.
In the watery blood that falls from the wound.
In the crying friend’s hand that tries to stop the bleeding.
And the injured man holding on to the edge of the volcano.
The tension is built, and the common ground fell
Into liquid hot magma.