A Bedtime Story
Oh, I really hate nights like these, for sleep eludes all hope
That I, mere man, rent by disease - a chronic misanthrope
Could ‘er belie plans laid on high, if by God or by men,
To overcome the skeptic's eye, and do justice this pen.
But voices plague all inner thought, there, let confusion reign.
I focus on all I should not, prepare the path for pain.
The ridicule of all I've known, meeting a million eyes;
A child behind a man full grown, I cling to my disguise.
Like peering, leering Dragons, weaving a serpent's spell;
For a moment I cannot move, and think it just as well.
Till recognition hits me, and within the hapless stare;
I see tears behind the eyes and the pain that holds them there.
So I raise my banner, drawn on truth, and mount the vaunted steed
Of Passion charging to the fore, accounting for each deed;
But stammer, accusations thrust, and take the mark of Scound,
Watching my dreams, sifted like dust, lifelessly greet the ground.
For truth's no charm for heroes in a world pent on greed,
And perhaps it's but gallows that will sanctify that need;
But clinging to my honor, and holding to my pride,
I keep with me my father, all he said before he died...
He said, "Son, I'm not a martyr, but I'll not pass without cause.
Remember all you stand for, and uphold the family laws.
Never let this world change you, all that you truly believe,
Above all know I live in you, that you won't have to grieve."
So holding to intuition, rising before the throne;
A lifetime come to fruition, I make my stand, but not alone.
It'll echo through the ages, how we overcame the fear;
And how a simple smile made the Dragons disappear.
Now I write about my visions, and I write about my dreams
But must admit the words, sometimes they write themselves it seems.
Till the moon outside is fading and within the predawn light
Sleep finally finds his way to me, and I bid you all goodnight.
But dreams of those who dream as I,
Aspiringly, are damned and die.
[This message has been edited by Michael (02-27-2002 09:15 AM).]