The Voice Gathering, quietly around the cold silver door. The crowd was hushed, for they had a purpose. The faint glow of torches glimmered and speckled the door with light, turning it into a passageway to another world. Presently all sounds quieted, silence rang in their straining ears. Softly, first, a faint bubbling hum could be heard. Then bursting into the first pulsing notes, the voice came. The song was wordless, yet told of magic. Haunting notes reverberated throughout the hall. Glistening tears could be found among many of the faces. Swiftly the music swept them up and carried them into the goldenness of dreams. A small bird lilting against the symphony of nature. Then sunset, the sun burning the sky away. night melting onto the horizon. A single gently piercing note; the moon.
The stars painted of the sounds of children, pure happiness; joy of just burning in the heavens. The carol of the voice danced through the night painting scenes across the
The RemainsThe hollowed corpse, the eye now black,
acid flesh meshed with chrome.
The smell of rubber still lingers near,
bitter sharp, shines in the sun.
Sting of cold metal to the tongue,
the hot anger, the reassurance of
The inner shards gleaming,
open, the sickening fragments on the pavement.
An open wound for all to see,
a scar of daily battle, now lost.
The wildness found in the empty shell,
spirit of freedom fled.