Jan 24, 2009 20:13
Demons
plague the spirit
whose names
even science knows.
Depression.
Fear.
Anger.
Sorrow.
A wounded heart beats
weakly
It knows the end looms
near.
Yet in the final hour
as it draws closer,
no more fear.
Falls away one demon,
raging its own end in fire
for light ignited in the darkest
places by sparks that
fall from winged spirit
glorious and gold.
Anger drips away, slinking
back to the abyss. Sorrow
hang on still, cobwebs blowing
adrift.
Depression hides its eyes, and buries
itself deep. Yet in that moment
that the soaring spirit comes
a gentle embrace.
Demons scream and flicker
their strength withers
at last.
The hear trembles and
beats with strength
it gathers from tender moments
rest.