in the fog of war

nothing seems clear

only skies above the mess

who created the fire

in hell living desires

lost souls going up

never mind the clear day

For the awe of these eyes
There are thousands of admirers
Behind these eyes
There are thousands of fables
You are not the only one
Entrapped in a trance
There are thousands
Walking in reverie
You talk of a flare
For an eternal burning candle

I am the muted utter
I am the desiccated tear
I am the chortled mockery
I am the eternal eclipse
I am the ache in the pain
I am the gloom of the dark
I am the seclusion in the heart
I am the vague blot in the verve
I am the marred hollow
I am the suicidal thought
I am the apprehended soul
I am

In augmented tension, I exist
In mounted disquiet, I ensue
In dejected psyche, I intuit
In restive darkness, I subsist
In suicidal scheme, I deduce
In enervated reverie, I prod
In dirge hex, I intone
In banter gist, I befall
In asylum inveigled, I invite
In forsaken deceive, I breed
In melancholic phantom, I mimic
The irrevocable, I

The crying in the background provides the perfect montage to any writer who wishes to make sense of any idea and turn them into words. Not an easy task I must add. If you have children you know exactly what I am talking about and there is no need for me to go into details and explaining how this sounds.

You are familiar with the sound. It is after all music for your ears and you are used to it. At three in the morning the sound wakes you up for no apparent reason. Although I must say you do try your best to figure out why is this music playing at this time but to no avail. It does repeat itself over and over again and you knowing that there is no reason still try to figure it out. “What is wrong?” You ask.  “Where does it hurt? Is it your stomach?” You continue with questions and the only answer is more music to your hears. “Do you want medicine? Does it hurt when I press your legs? Tell me?” There isn’t any stop in your question series. You have asked these before and you know the answer. Music.

You think that by asking question after question you will get your answer some day. Not anytime soon. Not until the kids are old enough to say “Damn it dad, I am hungry.” or “I just want to cry so you can hear your favorite music at two in the morning.” After all, isn’t two in the morning the perfect time.