Slipping away

It all works out.
That there is a beginning to the end
and no story is ever written in vain.
Sheathed knives, twisted for knaves,
Only fools would not understand.
My hands were tied but notmy mind
and the lump in my head
will not make me fly tomorrow.
But It will not take me down
for the ground is too cold to lie
Six feet is not mine yet.

It all has a sense.
senseless chain of events
silent killers, friends underneath it all.
Six feet from the light,
the venom is spread and the word is out.
Who will listen, who will hear.
here is where invisible lines are drawn.

I see the ships leaving shore
wind behind the sails
slipping away to the horizon.
Nothing is the same
nothing ever is.
Promisses never made cannot be broken
Oaths not taken are not binding, blinding.
never defining, the rules of engagement.
There is no story, so don't worry, not be sorry.
but take a look at the land
for the moment is gone
even before it ever happened.
In the end
it was all a rite of passage
a flirt, a stoten minute
frozen in a fool's garden
it all was the same, eternal game
played by the same pawns
themselves subjet to a greater cycle.
Memento mori, memento mori
I see it all fading away
for I still am to learn
to hold the gates to the flood.
to swim against a tide
and to take that dive
and never walk back.

20090615 - words

It is ultimately the way that things goes.
There is a begining
and then, an end.
What really matters
is the time in between.
No comprmise
no sarcasm
Just seconds, ticking away
in their eternal haste.

Doors that you wish would remain open
always find a way of closing
and words written in haste
leave a neverlasting aftertaste,
Thrown about, always such a waste.

Is it the begining of the end
or an end to a beginning?
Time will tell.
But time also tells tales
that have reasons and lessons of their own
and listen to the voice of noone.

Emotions in the flow
They never last
for once you go
they belong to the past.

There is no reason to hold on
there has never been
and never will be.
The hands of time
takes their toll.
and memories fade
and hearts that fonder
mumble and stumble
and fall humble and silent
for the nights last
and the cold comes.

there is no sleep
there is no rest
there is no peace
there is no feast
until the day
The tides recede
and the sun shine again.

The Wolf and the Lycan

There is a weird story,
one of a Lycan and a Wolf.
It is yet to be known
why the Lycan tracked down and hunted the Wolf
For Lycans are known to be selective hunters,
And wolves lonesome warriors

But the Bitch was skilled and bit
and the Wolf defended,
It was a battle of witt,
lost in advance,
for Lycan's skills and fangs
were superior
and caught the battleweary Wolf offguard

Fangs and claws
Kicks and rants
ecapes and evasion.
tactics left to the underworld.
She was stronger and soon limits were overcome
and walls were brough down.

Boundaries that should not have been
were crossed
and gates to the tides were opened
and there was no turning back.

Life took its toll
and there are stories, untold
for the hurt they convey
built bridges, not to be crossed
pathways that are to be forgotten

The battle lasted and lasted
deep into the night
And when Dawn was about,
the Wolf was down
and Lycan knew
the prey was hers for the smitting...

Staring into the fury of moment
She walked away...

So today there live many a tale
Of a Wolf that roams the plains
Like a ghost to the moon
it leaves no shadows...
for, if you look close enough
you will see,
that somewhere under the fur,
the Lycan bit...