It was here.
Where the mountains once prayed to the tip of the clouds.
Where the air once swayed with the air all around.
Where gazelles reigned freely with the lack of a shroud,
Where fire and ice reigned the inhabitants now.
And it was here.
Where the sun's madness drove wrath to the land.
Where the trees' and the birds took a bath in the sand.
Where a man played God with the back of his hand.
burned bridges, rebuilt them and then burned them again.
And now it's here, where he returns,
hammer and fist.
Torn between lover and crusher of bliss
Torn between light and the depths of abyss
Torn between creator of heaven or pits.
Up went his will and the bridges were raised
Though they'd emptied long ago from his greed and his hate
But the rebuild continues, day after day
But not for stay, just to rid it of the land that decayed
When the oceans had swarmed and the rivers had flood
And all that was left was sinking down in the mud
And on the surface it was nothing, beneath, something he loved
But as it trudged
he ignored its breaking fountain of blood.
And inside he had suffered
and yet suffering he longed
For no amount of right could deprive him of wrong
And deprivation was thriving
Deprivation was home
Love nor life was ever a want all along.
And yet on he marched,
sedated, weary and parched,
Fully consious of vision
Yet lacking all of the heart
Full of dauntless conviction
But lacking will for the art
For the pompous mind he'd been given
Had turned and ripped him apart.
And it was here.
Where he would succumb, hammer and fist.
Lover nor crusher, both notions dismissed
Light nor dark, but simply shrouded in mist
Heaven nor hell,
Purgatory was bliss.