figures dark before my window’s
moonlit curtain flight,
they moan in distant voices,
as if displaced from bodies,
echoes resounding in my mind
from dark lamenting plights.
And with arms outstretched
what do they want from me,
flesh and bone in world removed from they,
pleading freedom from darkness hold,
between life and death their souls,
alive in some esoteric captivity,
and I still earthbound in sanctity.
Each night they come,
their faces shadowed in desperate neutrality,
gnarled bodies of earthly sin,
regretful tones of all within that had been,
that now hold them in contempt,
and relent they cannot,
until they appeased and life is righted,
their sins avenged and sighted,
as balance is restored.
Yet they call to me,
that cannot help their fate,
mediate or forgive their darkness deeds,
so they wallow in their suffering,
repeat their woeful uttering, of defeat.
Silhouettes of human fates,
diaphanous shadows of lost souls make
my nights so disrupted and confused,
helpless they and for me no use,
as life is ours in joy and strife
to balance in the end.
And so I try to explain I am no help to them,
and self-forgiveness I recommend,
for what holds us to our thoughts
can be bound like chains,
and blame is far from peace,
when a soul just needs release;
so shadows away, and seek the light,
not here you’ll find it, but within your heart, tonight.
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