Truth and the Ashes
They have been given the element of surprise,
Guessing or knowing, still they are here,
The watchers, the ashes, the silent and seers.
Look into the dark and see nothing but yourself,
Pale eyed, blank faced, and ready to die,
But still not ready to take a life.
A mirror companion among ashes and salt,
Stirs the minds of reapers and faults.
Keep the shadows safe from the light,
They don’t belong here, their home is the night.
Prevent the death of a formidable friend,
Lest the eyes, the voice, all come to an end.
Take us, put us to sleep, they whisper.
The world stands still, for the ashes speak.
However, the silence of the sky grows
The eye of the heavens, ever watching.
And after comes the nothingness,
The quiet resolve of the night,
Still sorrow, out of sight.
Chains hold the ashes to the soul of a girl,
Carving skin, chafing lies.
Truth stands on the grave of ashes,
Tilting her head to the dying dark,
The sky a funeral pyre.
A flicker, a match, had burned out the stars,
And Truth, she is aflame.
Aflame like the pyre lighting the night.
Aflame, and at second glance, a young phoenix.
The forgotten, but not forgotten shadows,
Stand in awe, moved by the winged creature.
Until the nothing comes.
A hush, a breeze, but not a breeze,
Truth blinks, and sinks down to her knees,
Bowing to the pyre, bowing to the light,
A rising sun, but an endless night.