Lament of Burgred
© Surazeus
2018 08 20
Though the dead might know better than me why
they are dead, haunting the living with fears
they could never express while still alive,
I know they know nothing since they are dead.
The dead know nothing because they are dead
since they have no conscious brain in their head
so the ghosts that haunt us with aching hope
are illusions our brains invent to cope.
I try to break through the locked door of death
but I too would vanish were I to die
and I want to feel the anguish of truth
that drives me forward against wind of breath.
The church, the bank, the capitol, the hall
where people gather to talk about death
scatters our memories in words on the wall
we cover with paint to avoid the truth.
I know the way to paradise is not
the way that leads to the great hall of prayer
for there the people sit around and stare
at the face of death that floats everywhere.
Though I go outside in the starless night
and scream at infinite nothing of death
I must return to artificial light
that comforts my heart with quaint lies I sing.
Each word I sing at the horror of death
beams out from my heart on words of my breath
as if some angel chained deep in my heart
expresses this faith I draw on the chart.
Each person I loved, who was so alive
with laughter and joy of pleasure we shared,
now lies in my arms broken by despair
when the flame of their love was crushed by death.
How can I escape invisible death
who stalks our steps no matter where we go,
running forever on the signless road
till I stumble at the edge of despair?
The bottomless suffering of my vast heart
gapes deeper than the abyss of bleak night
when I stare dizzy from cliff of despair
at waves of the sea that know my real name.
They battered the walls of heaven with rage
and smashed through the enduring doors of truth
and destroyed all things we made with our hands
so I sway on the cliff with broken wings.
I see the shining city on a hill
that once glowed with beauty of song and truth
now burning with flames of arrogant wrath
engulfed in horror of blistering rain.
What good is this gold crown of gems I wear
that glowed as halo on my noble head
when heaven I ruled is burning in flames
and I wander lost in the wilderness?
I stare at broken stones on the wet ground
then arrange them in large ring on the cliff
and cast bright fire when I strike two flintstones
and spread my arms wide to the blustering wind.
Though all my ancestors built with aching hands
falls burned by the flames of ignorant hate
I will rebuild heaven with my two hands
and restore the kingdom of truth on Earth.
I stand alone on the cliff in wild rain
and watch the dead dance around writhing flames
for the endless song of the ocean waves
still sings in determined beat of my heart.
© Surazeus
2018 08 20
Though the dead might know better than me why
they are dead, haunting the living with fears
they could never express while still alive,
I know they know nothing since they are dead.
The dead know nothing because they are dead
since they have no conscious brain in their head
so the ghosts that haunt us with aching hope
are illusions our brains invent to cope.
I try to break through the locked door of death
but I too would vanish were I to die
and I want to feel the anguish of truth
that drives me forward against wind of breath.
The church, the bank, the capitol, the hall
where people gather to talk about death
scatters our memories in words on the wall
we cover with paint to avoid the truth.
I know the way to paradise is not
the way that leads to the great hall of prayer
for there the people sit around and stare
at the face of death that floats everywhere.
Though I go outside in the starless night
and scream at infinite nothing of death
I must return to artificial light
that comforts my heart with quaint lies I sing.
Each word I sing at the horror of death
beams out from my heart on words of my breath
as if some angel chained deep in my heart
expresses this faith I draw on the chart.
Each person I loved, who was so alive
with laughter and joy of pleasure we shared,
now lies in my arms broken by despair
when the flame of their love was crushed by death.
How can I escape invisible death
who stalks our steps no matter where we go,
running forever on the signless road
till I stumble at the edge of despair?
The bottomless suffering of my vast heart
gapes deeper than the abyss of bleak night
when I stare dizzy from cliff of despair
at waves of the sea that know my real name.
They battered the walls of heaven with rage
and smashed through the enduring doors of truth
and destroyed all things we made with our hands
so I sway on the cliff with broken wings.
I see the shining city on a hill
that once glowed with beauty of song and truth
now burning with flames of arrogant wrath
engulfed in horror of blistering rain.
What good is this gold crown of gems I wear
that glowed as halo on my noble head
when heaven I ruled is burning in flames
and I wander lost in the wilderness?
I stare at broken stones on the wet ground
then arrange them in large ring on the cliff
and cast bright fire when I strike two flintstones
and spread my arms wide to the blustering wind.
Though all my ancestors built with aching hands
falls burned by the flames of ignorant hate
I will rebuild heaven with my two hands
and restore the kingdom of truth on Earth.
I stand alone on the cliff in wild rain
and watch the dead dance around writhing flames
for the endless song of the ocean waves
still sings in determined beat of my heart.
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