Through the Rift

i passed through empty spaces

and heard the empty words

i drew the empty faces

on a canvas of a world

i walked along the river and drew the needle through the thread

and passed into the places where the angels dare not tread

there i stood at the foot of the mountain that streched into tearing sky

and pulled the thread through the orchard of the apple of my eye

there at the top, a void was looking down as the reign of lightning plummets down

and not a sound echo'd 'round this coming place that none had found



as i grasped the face of the mountain i found its stone was cold and wet

and so it remained from the time the sun rose 'till the time the sun would set

as i searched i found no stone untouched by the rain that came from obcurring cloud

that covered me with dream and death that surrounded like a gown

and through the rift it raged into the place from which i'd came

rending quietly 'cross the countryside erasing ev'ry name

and as i watched it mow and reap

(unable to pray my soul to keep)

there were no words to be my last

as my cheek fell softly upon the grass...