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free

the storm gathering
in the abyss of your eyes
the thunder, the lightning
and all the cries

no one to hear
no one is near
rain cold on your face
above you plead your case

wind in your feet
you drag through eternity
blood on your nails
you scratch through uncertainty

deep within, the wail grows loud
outside, the fading sky
desperate and grey as the rain cloud
washing away the mighty high

search as much, the spark is lost
extinguished and extinct
the magic spell uncast
everything soon indistinct

on the lonely hill slope,
in the shadow of a tree
all you do is hope,
that one day you will be free.

~quasi 08 August 2003