They That Were

The doors of a shuttered house stand closed

You walk up to the desiccated grounds

                    No true path

No sign of color or vivid life

                    No way to get past the hound

He stands with beaded eyes before you

You pound into him once          twice          no more

The walls too high, their breast too harsh,

You fall hopelessly into the pit of ages

                     There is no light

There is no righteousness

There is no me and no them

Laughter sounds cold and forbidding

The Madame of the house calls down

“Do you not feel Foolish?

Beaten and Broken

Fallen down- the angel that never was and never could be”

A step

One up, one down, and one to the light

It grows up inside unbeknownst to them

You stand tall you face the beast

The breath on his breast dissolves him

The beat of the broken heart slams the door open once more

The beaten body heals Inside there is beauty, inside there is truth, justice

The richness of the inner self is unable to be seen from the desiccated grounds,

but here is where the true likeness lies

Your eyes, theirs, they are one in the same

You and they are one in the same

Their words can pierce no more

The shell of yourself falls away

The Madame is gone-

                    Fallen to the pit of ages

Does she not feel foolish you say?

Does she not know who YOU are?

Do you know nowThe Inner?

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