Abrupted Symphony

With the night on my head and the moon over my shoulders,

the bats fly crazy, blind and yet so meticulous,

soured up imaginations and the high ambitions,

can't be stopped until they decide to fight the light drought.

I fought up to the welder and the fieldman,

Frank Sinatra, Elvis Presley, none could capture the beast,

I was nothing but rising up against that fulfilling feast,

compromising against that memento of life.

rose up against those walls and plucked up the small black rose,

following that unwinding road to that perdition.

The long and blinded pathway never rose to that highway,

stored in that snow-covered hill, those pines.

I have rested beneath that rested unfound,

and unknown and yet so bestowed hollowness of the DEAD.

Shanty hollows and the sleepy hollows but still not the credited sorrows,

I have seen through the glass the narrow dimension,

yet these prophesied cacophonies of the abrupt silences,

Lies and the dried cries were never meant to be part of those silent chores.