When the Black Bird Sings IV
Downpour
The wind hollers, ripping the wet heavy sky into shreds. Dark clouds whirling, faster, faster. It has the world dancing back and forth in its whims. The bony fingers of the trembling trees are desperately clawing the heavens. And it weeps and it weeps and it weeps. And it can do nothing.
The murk embraces the landscape, hugging it, cold so cold. Such a melancholic embrace.
Shadows darker than the blackest of black roam freely, on the prowl – hunting down every last trace of warmth, of light, of hope.
A world confined to black, overflowing weather.
In all this, I stand. The wind lashing out at me, the gloom slithering across my icy skin, the firmament collapsing – the weight of millions and millions of droplets becoming too much.
And you say. And you tell me. And you let me know.
Have no fear.
A shelter from my privet storm. Can you really promise me that?
The downpour of my mind has washed away hands that I perhaps should have held on to. Will you be the exception? Will you really be there?
You parade around with the sun on a string – your very own brightly burning balloon. Like a child, a little child, when you smile. I have a hard time telling which shine more, the glowing orb or your eyes.
The storm wrenches at your clothes, whips stray strands of hair into your face and places dashes of water upon your retinas – don’t make my tears your own, don’t let them roll down your cheeks when they can’t escape upon mine.
I’ll be here.
The wind doesn’t tear the words from your lips to mockingly throw them away from my ears, away where I can’t hear. Have you defeated it?
My demons whisper in my head. Sentences and sounds that eat their way through my mind to the thumping lump in my chest. D-doubt, d-doubt, d-doubt it beats frenetically.
You hold out a hand. They lash out, biting at your fingers. But you don’t fear them. And though your eyes are soaked your lips are still the shape of happiness.
I won’t disappear.
I might take your hand.
But they rip my gaze away. They toss it back into clouds spinning rampantly into shapes of misery.
D-doubt, d-doubt, d-doubt.
Look at me,
The sound of your voice lures my eyes away to meet yours.
I'll be here.
And I reach for your hand.
The murk embraces the landscape, hugging it, cold so cold. Such a melancholic embrace.
Shadows darker than the blackest of black roam freely, on the prowl – hunting down every last trace of warmth, of light, of hope.
A world confined to black, overflowing weather.
In all this, I stand. The wind lashing out at me, the gloom slithering across my icy skin, the firmament collapsing – the weight of millions and millions of droplets becoming too much.
And you say. And you tell me. And you let me know.
Have no fear.
A shelter from my privet storm. Can you really promise me that?
The downpour of my mind has washed away hands that I perhaps should have held on to. Will you be the exception? Will you really be there?
You parade around with the sun on a string – your very own brightly burning balloon. Like a child, a little child, when you smile. I have a hard time telling which shine more, the glowing orb or your eyes.
The storm wrenches at your clothes, whips stray strands of hair into your face and places dashes of water upon your retinas – don’t make my tears your own, don’t let them roll down your cheeks when they can’t escape upon mine.
I’ll be here.
The wind doesn’t tear the words from your lips to mockingly throw them away from my ears, away where I can’t hear. Have you defeated it?
My demons whisper in my head. Sentences and sounds that eat their way through my mind to the thumping lump in my chest. D-doubt, d-doubt, d-doubt it beats frenetically.
You hold out a hand. They lash out, biting at your fingers. But you don’t fear them. And though your eyes are soaked your lips are still the shape of happiness.
I won’t disappear.
I might take your hand.
But they rip my gaze away. They toss it back into clouds spinning rampantly into shapes of misery.
D-doubt, d-doubt, d-doubt.
Look at me,
The sound of your voice lures my eyes away to meet yours.
I'll be here.
And I reach for your hand.