The Plain Of Days

loose the arrow o'er the mountains
dancing through the plain of days.
i cannot tell you what i've dreamed,
i'll show you come tomorrow.

smiling soft at claws intently
on this door, another page-
i cannot bring this hand to turn-
the door to my bedchamber.

to the fields, other houses,
slab of steel, hero's grave.
there is no sound like this sweet song,
there is no touch more soothing.

cry the river, laugh the forest,
blowing wind through waving trees,
the constant needles, winter leaves,
have filled the open spaces.

smote the ruin of betrayer,
never more betrayed are we.
the law forgives its self defense
and leaves the work to conscience.

sliding glass, the shrill falsetto,
glass on iron, flesh on stone.
a drive by pay phone suicide,
stop motion, seven angles.

loose the arrow o'er the canyons
nestled in the plain of days.
i cannot tell you what i've done;
you'll know it all tomorrow.

one man through an open window,
two men through an open door,
another down the fire escape,
percussive boots on pavement.

run exploding through the alleys,
racing fear down city streets,
pursuing solace, compass fails,
and all they've left is instinct.

smiling down the great ambition,
great illusion, great divide.
the soul of man is true and good,
the rest but shell and carcass.

this has come in no uncertain
terms, in no way undefined.
as summer sleeps alone tonight
his joy is dimmed in habit.

cradled in the womb of hope he
dreams of possibility
and closes eyes that dream all day
of one now dead and buried.

loose the arrow o'er the glaciers
creeping down the plain of days.
i cannot now entrust to you,
i know you well no longer.

i cannot tell you what i've dreamed,
i'll show you come tomorrow.
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26-30
Sep 16, 2012