In Blinding Light

Newspaper over heads, suits that run in the dark, That run in fear from the choking of the ground. The bombs rain down in unison Leaving people’s good intentions and their hopes of tomorrow Blanked in blinding light, Forever alone and distraught from what lay in their unspoken minds. All of this I once read from my future bench Bestowed upon a grievous wasteland which had neighbored the raining and the thunder that night Just close enough so I could envision the souls of the ones beaten down like the ground. Ambiguous ghosts among a dark cloud, Forever alone and in confusion, Appalled at the buttons that could mask the eyes Of brethren in blinding light. Huddled en masse, the victims of the fall The shivering changing of the halo Grouped in twos, in threes by the fire Look up, to the things bigger than you As Silence jeers his frosty fist in opposition. So make like the living, and bloom Oh, bloom Towards Light and his followers. When you think no one around has their ears open Be forewarned; Echo listens and repeats, So make like the birds, and rise above the fall. Carry the lightest ones on your shoulders And hope the heavy are strong enough to make it through the night To see things bigger than them by sunrise Holding out their hallowed hands in helping; In warming grace. You can hear them whistling down the tunnel if you really listen close Far down the tunnel of love, so perfectly sharp that echo Marching on, the drummer’s song, forever and ever. Yet the ones who listen are not always ready But they hear the calling alright, to a higher place Like roots from a garden. And the headmaster, what to do with all this noise? What seemed like eternity all this chaos and chatter Will soon be sorted by the headmaster into melodies, In an ever-stretching siphon of unique song and ability. All this heavy thinking, it’s got me going insane But then again, is there anyone born to think about it? The shop keeper and the passerby have other things on their mind So hand me the die of fate hidden on the highest shelf For you won’t find anyone else With the heart that sings, that won’t ever stop. I think about it all the time and it worries me; you know I’m scared of open heights. This mystery, where we’re all supposed to go, It isn’t for the meek and those that hide So come on ghosts, shake our hands Help us with this burden, this struggle The ultimate struggle between what’s up there and what’s down here.