Post by Kanebaru Tesou on Jan 15, 2006 0:13:49 GMT -5
Something I wrote about a year ago, but still like.
Paradise
A calm sigh, resounding through times,
Wind blowing, echoing soft chimes.
Soft skin, pale as night,
The star’s shining light.
Folds of silk, trailing down,
Ebony cape, pearl gown.
Another life, another soul,
Ruled by a lash, a bell’s toll.
Toiled long, days of blight,
All for that which is not in sight.
For that who hides, in walls of stone,
With all their riches, dines alone.
This other life, thousands die,
Scarred souls in the gloomy sky.
In fields of brown, green, colors bold.
The others laugh in halls of gold.
Hell, without sun’s gleams,
Yet...Paradise, or so it seems.
Brightening laughter, radiant gems,
Rotting cloth, ragged hem.
A tray of sweets, a delectable tart.
An apple chunk, the moldy part.
A given heaven, a lord’s delight,
Ignorant to others’ plight.
While lashes land, and warm blood drips.
Cool wine dribbles down the cup from which he sips.
The soft purr, from musician’s harp,
Down canvas sides, artist’s paint falls to tarp.
A lone man wanders, to balconies silent,
Gaze passing outside, through fabric pliant.
The feelings he has, from the sight he has to behold,
Goes far against all he has been told.
A soul is killed, in only a second’s thrice.
His confused mine questions.
Is this truly, Paradise?
Paradise
A calm sigh, resounding through times,
Wind blowing, echoing soft chimes.
Soft skin, pale as night,
The star’s shining light.
Folds of silk, trailing down,
Ebony cape, pearl gown.
Another life, another soul,
Ruled by a lash, a bell’s toll.
Toiled long, days of blight,
All for that which is not in sight.
For that who hides, in walls of stone,
With all their riches, dines alone.
This other life, thousands die,
Scarred souls in the gloomy sky.
In fields of brown, green, colors bold.
The others laugh in halls of gold.
Hell, without sun’s gleams,
Yet...Paradise, or so it seems.
Brightening laughter, radiant gems,
Rotting cloth, ragged hem.
A tray of sweets, a delectable tart.
An apple chunk, the moldy part.
A given heaven, a lord’s delight,
Ignorant to others’ plight.
While lashes land, and warm blood drips.
Cool wine dribbles down the cup from which he sips.
The soft purr, from musician’s harp,
Down canvas sides, artist’s paint falls to tarp.
A lone man wanders, to balconies silent,
Gaze passing outside, through fabric pliant.
The feelings he has, from the sight he has to behold,
Goes far against all he has been told.
A soul is killed, in only a second’s thrice.
His confused mine questions.
Is this truly, Paradise?
