In the Quiet

The darkness is growing.
You can feel it in the air -
that quiet feel of just before
the worst of all the storms.

A strangeness, even there -
within the feel of sun and wind
while we pretend that everything
is still the same as what it used to be.

The signs are there. The symbols
are erupting in the colors of the steam.
The dream is being threatened yet again.
Laying low, they're buried in the soot.

The demon spawn, released at dawn
are roaming o'er the streets that once
provided safety to the hordes that leased
a life of sameness at such cost.

Warned, yet they are lost within
the way their worlds used to spin.
It's hard for them to sleep at night.
Even memories of love go dim from bright.

Anger reaching for the rage again.
It used to be just then that you would
love me, oh so well. The spell was broken,
long ago, by you. And it doesn't matter
what you do, it never will come back to you
that way.

And you must suffer from the lack
of something more. For you have chosen.
Another life, another style, another
point of view. And nothing new will
ever matter there.

Signed and sealed, all your messages
have duly reached their destination.
They never really made much of
a difference. But don't despair -
the love you used to feel is rising
everywhere (except for there, in you).

You feel it happening within the atmosphere.
In the quiet, just before those mighty
storms begin again...

? Michaelette ?

8/27/2002
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