the slow art of breathing bitter

Horror And Glee

In some blue waves and in the bright shiny wings

To search the wild depth of newly awakened glee;

I can only hear the bruised melodies

Of the coming storm and battles.

The quietude that raises early cries and conquers lonesome tremblings.

The hollowness has blown out; the life's void.

The pages now scribbled with the horror of death.

And yet I want to dissolve in

The far sweet whistling and in my own self.

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A/N: What about some nice interpretations and quick votes? And then, they will get you a whole box of frozen waffles!