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Tom Dougherty
The lost soul wanders
Through himself.
And he ever wonders
What is the price he pays?
Why can’t we strip away
The darkness that we see?
Why does it fold, engulf,
And smother us within?
The lost soul ever noticing
Our strife, deceit, betrayal.
And how to find a piercing light,
To fight the darkness back.
How can our words
Remake the world?
And gentleness
Prevail?
How can the sacrifice
Of just one man
Lead to salvation
Of us all?
Only through unfound emotions
Can the darkness be undone.
Our souls will marr the way
To knowledge, and the truth.
That unexsistence lingers here.
At last we realize
The past is gone, but not forgotten,
The story carries on.
And now you see
The poor lost soul
Who tries and tries to comprehend
Why men make men, and men make death.
They are the souls
Of all, and none.
And any
In between.
But as the blackness
Smothers life
The memories remain.
The soul is carried on.
And finally the world has found
All that which it sought.
The last shred of hope we carry.
Knowledge is the key.
The lost soul wanders
Through the world
And he ever wonders
What is this price we pay?
Uncomprehensible.
Are we the ones
That must be found?
Are we to be destroyed?
Why can’t we see
The darkness we have spawned?
This emptiness
That we have made.
The lack of wisdom
Is our folly.
With ignorance to blame,
The story passes on.
And when the world
Unmakes itself,
What shall become
Of that lost soul?
The storyteller
Loses all,
With nothing else
To gain.
Does anyone care
To stop this thing?
This inconcievable darkness?
We have only but to try.
The lack of folly
Was our downfall,
Which leads
To ignorance.
But no one cares,
And no one loves,
And as we disagree,
This evil spawned will never end.
Never knowing freedom.
Never
Knowing why
To live now, is to die.
If someone hears the clarion call
Of darkening despair
Then someday, perhaps
Our knowledge may prevail.
Until the world
Believes the truth
And understands
The peril,
The lost soul wanders
Endlessly
And clarifies
The empty whispers.
The story loses
All the meaning
And bitterness
Prevails.
The keeper is the slayer
Of our mortality.
This blackened life
Lived by immortal souls.
The wise men say
The end is near.
The fools believe them all.
Trust everything, but not yourself.
The lost soul wanders
Through my mind
And he ever wonders
What is the price I pay?
I speak to you
Most truthfully
And recognize
The world.
The tale is told.
The end is far.
And nothing else remains.
And nothing else matters.
The pale, cold deaths
Untouched by life.
This infancy
Destroyed.
And no one knows,
And no one cares,
That people hurt, not just one man.
And no one gives a damn.
The end, not so close,
But not so far,
Is something not to fear,
But to be seen as a beginning.
How can we see
This damage here
Is something
That is long done?
Why do we fear
The silence?
The silence exists
Only within ourselves.
The battered lives
Which ‘fools’ lead
Are counter-acted
By the ‘strong.’
But with this dark undoing
Of life’s essence itself,
The lost soul quivers anxiously,
And looks to see the world.
Comprehension
Settles in.
And finally,
You bastards see.
But this is not the end.
With this comes responsibility,
Endurance,
And belief.
Why do we choose
To break ourselves,
Each other,
And the world?
No one shall know
How life’s enjoyed,
If no one ever cares
To watch and wait and see.
As now we stare into the mist,
This strange oblivion,
We realize we cannot see
All that the future holds.
I seem to see
A darkened light.
A dim one,
But not gone.
And it foretells
Our doom, our fear,
And all the things
We hope to overcome.
These things we see
Have come to pass
Because we choose
Not to see.
Why do I write
Of all this blackness
And all the hate I see?
A question in the minds of all.
No longer does
The poor lost soul
Determine
His own destiny.
He understands
That though we fear,
Our lives can be complete.
And knowledge is the key.
Open your minds,
And see the truth.
There is no end.
There are only beginnings.
And now at last
The truth is seen
By more than just
One soul.