Black

[sanguinetempest]

devoid of color, devoid of light
it has no meaning, it has no life
yet its being mysteriously marks
the shape of thousands of lives
can we open up to a shadow
and break our glass hearts again?
the glass is no longer clear
darkened, stained by the perils of time
the glass is no longer clear
it is black

black the hearts we hold
broken as we each grow old
black the lives we kill
broken as we hold ourselves still

a beacon of the ages still
we follow frozen in its footsteps
we are cut open with knives
we are shattered before our eyes
can we bring ourselves to open up
and break our glass hearts again?
the glass is no longer clear
darkened, stained by the perils of time
the glass is no longer clear
it is black