Restoration

Today is full of hollow pill capsules.
Feet are tapping ruthless rhythms
on the sidewalk paradise
behind the cool blue convenience store
that sits on every corner
of every street
in the city of drunken souls.
Pay the tolls and fill the holes with fantasy.
Broken glass bottles paint shiny pictures
on the still face of the concrete monument,
making a mosaic out of yesterday's dreams.
It matters not whether the glass is half full
or half empty
when in the end the liquid is always consumed.
The flickering fumes of long-extinguished candles
shroud empty rooms
with the lingering smell of evanescence,
of life being sucked slowly into oblivion.
To rely on the lie which is security
is to sacrifice purity for passion.
But there is nothing wrong with that.
There is nothing, after all,
save that moment when dreams and reality meet
and the glare of the sun is no longer harsh
but instead comforting.
Warming.
To warm the heart which beats inside
so briefly
is to relieve the artist of the burden
that tends to melt the masterpiece to ash.
Walking, talking vices are singing siren songs
into the dark caverns of empty ears,
longing to trade tears for glory.
The abandoned highways stretch like lifeless spiderwebs
across the bleeding sky,
trying to connect two very separate states of being,
the jester and the King never seem
to truly understand one another.
Oh how I wish
I could snap my fingers
and instantly ease the aching hearts of this world.
Save the dreaming for the dreamers.
The muse has no time for drug-induced lullabies,
instead it cries
to the sullen skies
for another lunar double-edged eclipse,
where shine the blades of light and dark
meeting in the heavens with a final spark-
the tumultuous sound of myriad screaming voices
all channeled through waves of magnetic impulse,
rising and rising
reaching the highest point, on fire with blazing fear.
Melting, molding, blending, mending,
becoming One for a transitory instant of chaotic bliss
......
...
.
And then there it is.
Long lost silence prevails.
All the cities return to ash.
Quiet figures, suddenly humbled
stand naked in the embers
holding hands.
For the first time in ages,
holding hands.
"As it once was, so shall it be."