Feeling indifferent to the complaints and accusations
One more strike, one more chord
Mechanical and cold
How much can be taken from so little time?
Who feels the abandonment?
Who feels the loss?
Emancipation comes at such cost
Is the grace and love enough to overshadow
The sorrow of your departure
Freed from your body and trapped in my frames
Leaving only questions in your wake
With the destruction of one foundation comes
The creation of others
And Tragedy sways in the wind, uncertain of her place
The distance between us measures as easily
As the influence of all your strikes and chords
The irony of so much life coming from a single death
Weighs as heavily on me as the cold rests on the day
Pedals and thorns fail miserably to convey
With the bar now set
The task is inherited by the unprepared and unwilling
in the midst of the dark we turn
to honor, to uphold, to build, to push
With the rest of our strikes and chords
1 comment:
good stuff Cory. Each time you seem to push your own creative limits. Right on. And if this is grounded in current reality, I am sorry about your grandma my friend.
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