Tuesday, November 12, 2013

rock me

stacked upon,
papers fly from a broken bag,
as the heavenly storm,
bears down on a broken world,
quickly cramping our dreams of escape,
the wicked torrents will skin us to our skeleton,
and give us only dirty water to breathe,
until there's nothing left but hunger and thirst,

but there is life where there is music - 

there is life still,
there is rejuvenation,
there is transformation,

until the morning,
angel of the darkness,
hold me in your arms,
and rock me.