Cold Hearts

If cold hearts told the stories of sealed lips,

And bleeding thoughts cleansed the coats of sin,Image

Then he would ride blameless into eternity.

His legacy made legends of suffering.

If the thin air couldn’t choke the breath out of him,

Like the piercing blows life had dealt him,

We will sing our solemn goodbyes in harmonious beauty.

A choir of sadness that evokes and summons angels

With tear stained faces and laden wings,

To guide him past the horrors of the in-between,

To guard the remnants of his torn soul,

Through the veil of cowardice and fire of doubt

 

He fought his battles within him,

Slay his all the foes inside of him,

He chocked the fight out of his errant heart,

He cut the chords that wrapped around his neck like vices,

Burnt to ashes the church of unspoken curses,

That fell behind his eyes like colossal curtains,

Blocking his vision, clouding his judgment

He bled the veins that stank with her stench,

And buried her memories in his chest with the dead

Then he drowned himself in the chaos of her aftermath,

Scared his body with the blades of survival

But even as his insides fell to pieces,

And hollowness washed over him like a cloud of fog,

Even as emptiness made home of his defeated heart,

And collected at the core of his essence,

He still did not know peace.

 

So as we gather today at the feet of his almighty,

Bow and shade your cloaks of indifference,

Clench your fists coated with blame,

Silence your clutter of conceitment,

Honor his struggles,

Weep for the brevity of his life,

Do not mock the master of darkness,

But dread the outreach of his cold hands,

And most of all, remember,

Each of us belong somewhere,

Some here, in this world,

Others elsewhere.

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