Re-told

Thoughts pierce and guilt burns.
The night-breeze of adulterated-freedom whistles past.

The night's cold and the sky's dark.
Hiding stories underneath.

The clocks tick... back comes the time.
When souls stirred and hands held.

The air is heavy and the vision blurred.
The ways are hypnotic and the dust revengeful.

I want to rush to another thought...
But guilt follows.

The owl hoots in awareness
Aware of my access and his existence.

Light is still away.
The twilight between life and death.

The music of the spirit dampens.
And moss collects.

Thoughts come gushing... like a whirlpool
I am flooded: emotions in a washing-machine.

The wrong over right and the right over wrong
Like two shirts on the same peg.

The mirror cracks...
And blood flows through their thirsty fissures.

My mouth waters.
But wait; where am I?

The beginning is the end
And the end is the beginning.

The story must be told.
And re-told.