As we sat along the fire, we saw the light.
An ominous beauty, tainted by our nausea.

The music sounds so beautiful here.
Be it a rushed effort, a ballad for loved ones,
an ode to truth, love or fear.
Swirly melodies reaching up high
accentuate the depth of this situation,
but still fail to reach the sky.

Should the worst happen, you have to know
that this was a cry for help, a plea.
But it went so much further, than I ever meant to go.
It worked, but not too well.
The aftershocks and numbness came
but failed to ease me from melodrama hell.

Such a cry was always going to be in vain.
It's hard to react correctly these days,
when you're so ashamed of feeling such pain.
The temptation of a cure, I can't resist.
I no longer see that it doesn't work
as my addiction becomes a tryst.

It's such an uncomfortable place.
To dark, and too light. Too cold, and too warm.
Only the strings bring a smile to my face.
Suddenly I'm bored, but the TV is too loud.
I wish I wasn't alone, but in my current state
I can think of nothing worse than a crowd.

So I keep my faith in the heavenly sound,
as it is yet to become compromised.
This is the only steady comfort I have found.
Other things will come, and leave their mark.
Some will hurt, and cause disapproving glances.
Only the sound will soften the dark.

The music can save me. It's so beautiful.
As we sat along the fire, we saw the light.

04/18/2008

Author's Note: I'm working on this poems sister piece, which will be my next post.

Posted on 04/18/2008
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