As the sky darkens,
And the storm rises,
The murky fog begins to appear hastily beyond the horizon.
Our hearts are no longer bound together,
But cleaved in two
For the fire has died,
And the flint and stone no longer abide by nature’s ruling,
For they do not light the log that once melted our hearts together,
To make the only element science cannot understand;
The element we refer to as love.
Now ravens, not doves flock towards our darkened earth.
But when you would realize that all you would need to do
Is strike the other side of the flint,
Our flame would be kindled again,
And when you would do this, the fog would clear,
The storm would break,
The sky would be sunny and blue again,
The storm would leave and never return.
Our flame would be lava at the core,
We would love and be loved without hesitation.
But that dream that once drifted among my sleep has passed, and the storm continues.
People call me crazy.
They say there is no storm,
But there is a storm,
There always has been a storm,
And there always will be.
Where once we loved, there is hate.
Where once there was joy,
There is now gloom.
Where once there was a gleeful noise,
There is now utter silence.
And where once there was a warm, safe place for us to look inside each other’s eyes,
And see the fire that burns inside,
There is now a cold, damp ghetto in which I reside to distract me from these memories.
Angels can no longer sing of triumph and joy,
For this storm dampens their wings.
My heart sinks in the deepening ocean of lost souls.
I am drowning but cannot be drowned,
And the feeling of that gruesome grasp that grips the throat so tightly dwells within my thoughts.
The crushing deep closes in around me,
But there is no light at the end of this tunnel.
This slow, consuming, death that cannot kill
Proceeds to torture my ever deepening mind.
Without you here, this breath cannot breathe,
This heart cannot bleed,
This mind cannot think,
This eye cannot see,
This hand cannot touch,
This life…
Cannot live.
Life without love truly is the blackest black.