Personal Chaos

March 14, 2007

Scream scream scream. Any chaos you feel. Tears falling. Any reason to grow stronger. Fall weaker. No comfort anywhere. The floor to sleep on. More true than any mattress. More true than any mask. Any hope subsides. Any fear fills in. The buildings will fall. The sirens of the heart will fall. The society will fall. The dust will panic all eyes. The moon will fall. The silence of every ear will rise. The tears will rise. The heart will scream. The floor will meet you. The floor will rise to meet every weary temple and forehead and to collect every tear. The wet carpet will swim beneath you. The seas will rise. The moon will fall in darkness. The path will crack. The sky will close around the earth. The heat will be the sign of the heart. The tears will be the sign of desire. The exhaustion will be the sign of devotion. The mind will set unnoticed as does the sun. All dust swirling. The dust of the whipped earth. The dust of millions. The dust of words. The dust of thought. The dust of grief. The dust of envy and anger. The dust of distress. The rainbow of regret. The rain of perception. The rain of kindness. The rain of compassion. The rain of devotion. The dust of fear. The rain of hope. Unwelcome, the softest heart. No song. No sleep to find. No prayer to grasp. No sword to flash upon the veil of dust. No face. No arms. Nor head. Nor hands. No legend and legacy. No legion. Nor army. In quiet, with the weakest of hearts, the Fire.

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