In Solemnity

Wrapped in a solemnity.
The music played. They couldn't sing.
As if to sing would be a blasphemy.
The silence echoed, terribly complete.
No hum of life. No sense of flight.
Grounded by an anonymity.
'It' was always blamed for the decrees
that held them back and crushed them down.
And silenced e'en the sound of angels' wings.
Like a poet without inspiration.
Or a god without the will of his creation.

Constant pain. A tingling - too taut
within the finger tips. Lips embalmed
by all they did not say. They were fading
into mists of nonexistence. Clutching at
their memories to keep life hanging on.
The patterns all unraveling with age.
Connections made in days gone by.
Like ghosts that lived the other side
of things they never really touched at all.

Sirens screaming mankind's fear.
The Reaper drawing ever near.
Born to die. Their lives left in a heap.
Pictures taken. Yellowed edges.
Black and white. The gray of hedges.
Wishing all the pain would die away.
The echoes of a childhood refrain.
Desperately playing in their heads.

For they'd been wrapped in a solemnity.
The safe cocoon had turned into a shroud.
Music played. Too far away for them to catch
the tune. Laughter only ringed around the moon.
The silence echoed, terribly complete.
No hum of life. No sense of flight.
Grounded by an anonymity.
'It' was always blamed for the decrees
that held them back and crushed them down.
And silenced e'en the sound of angels' wings.
Like a poet without inspiration.
Or a god without the will of his creation.

The walls that once had kept them safe
were swiftly closing in. Crushing all the feel
of innocence. Their swollen pride exploded.
For their egos had imploded. The will to live
no longer theirs to bear. Instinctual, the old
white mare turned black within their withering.
Hark, their herald angels sang no more...

? Michaelette ?

12/28/2003
Copyright© 2003 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
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