There
is Something
There is something that runs around and around in my
head. He is reckless and careless and fearless.
He is an unwanted visitor that takes liberties that
were never given.
The space where he resides is a lonely place; a
place no one gets to go but him. It is a place no one dares to go. It is a place
that harbors those things that can only be written or said in a whisper.
In here he makes wars rage without mercy or
conscience.
In here he deals in worlds and destinies.
In here he is free.
He is the owner of creation while dealing in
destruction. By the throat he holds these things.
There are no rules here—no time—no protocol.
It is through his eyes the truth is seen and
written.
Word by word…
He is the storm and the blade.
He is both the tear that falls and the blood that
runs.
The abyss is his repository for the marks on the
small white canvas.
His cost is high but necessary. His freedom is the
very elixir that becomes both poison and antidote.
He deals in empathy but is devoid of it. The chaos
that brings It forth also unravels.
But do not try to look; do not try to understand.
His domain is fragile and yet guarded by an unknown force that will not trifle
with niceties.
There is something that runs around and around in my
head. He is reckless and careless and fearless.
In here resides passion.
In here is lightening.
In here is fettered freedom.
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