9. "Morning Star Within Hell"

Written 7-9-1999

A feeling no hand could hold
Yet it stabs with a dagger of ecstasy,
Then murders you with the hostility of depression
Just a prick can scar for life

And there’s no end to the pain of this strife

Could it be, a human emotion, feeble in all of its insanity
Could cure such a pessimistic master
A gentle tyrant with a rage that could bring you beyond death
But caress that would make tears flow, cries for more

Could it be? And how could you be sure?

Suffering either way
In the crypt of the darkness or the blindness of the tenderness
What to choose? What to feel? Which would be most regretful?
Die in coldness, misery, and emptiness
Or with knowledge that what you did have, that you did hold a dream once
But it left you, with a gash on your palm?

Isn’t there a state of peace, a soothing calm?

You fear for your life, and yet you have no fear
You cry out in pain, but your pride won’t drop a tear
Your eyes wander down each road as far as they can go
You hear the throbbing question in your mind, and, quivering, answer,
"I don’t know."

Well, perhaps you don’t understand the choices
But it’s mindlessly simple to explain
One road leads you to a preeminent hell
And the other, the same

Oh, but that’s just the basis, definitely not the whole picture
There is so much more than that! Step back, take in the senses.
Choice one consists primarily of eternal pain
Never-ending in your suffering distress

An excruciating forever.

Or perhaps, you’ll pick the second choice
Which can also embody this agonizing horror
Ah, but, you see, there’s more to it than that
That only exists after death.

This choice may be one to endeavor.

Heaven before hell, a Shangri-La before a tormenting inferno
Though it sounds crazy, it’s most clever to consider.
First experience the dead isolation, yet, not seeing it until
You find what you’ve been missing all of your life...

You’d never thought you’d see the morning star.

The first bright color blooming in the snow
Something your eye had never even aspired to sense
Your mind becomes interested, your heart begins to beat
What is it? What is it? You don’t understand,
Yet your bewilderment drives you mad, you’re enjoying every moment of it.

Suddenly your icy conflagration has gone, moved away so far.

After time of experience, you find this Elysium has a name of description
But how could they fit such exquisite rhapsody into just four letters?
"Love." But the word seems so nonchalant from your tongue.
You feel like a peasant trying to hold the name of the king

You are unworthy, you have no right.

But, like a dove, it flies off before you have time to feel it’s warmth
Understanding has not completely been fulfilled as you let it slip away
And you are left, not only with the same suffering of the past
But, also, with a new kind of agony, one you’ve never felt before

The candle goes out, and it is again the night.

As the swiftest wind, time cannot be locked in a bottle
So it is time now to chose your fate
A verbal answer will not do, it is plain that this is up to you
Find the road before it is too late

Your eyes wander down each road as far as they can go
You hear the throbbing question in your mind, and, quivering, answer,
"I don’t know."
You are unworthy, you have no right.
The candle goes out, and it is again the night.