Tag Archives: breath

The False Comfort of Drowning

Under water all her breathing
Isn’t impossible as it seems. Rings
Out echos from the sown
Unknown borne of the abyssal below.
Then once more to the darkened spires,
Her climb, her flight, her pain inspired.
Descent is this? To the depths?
Sorting through what memory’s kept.
Constantly trying to change inside:
The past; it’s long been fossilized.
So full of sorrow and full of stone,
She discards strength for gills so,
She hopes not for the surface and here,
At the bottom of the ocean it’s quite clear,
That she will never rise again unless,
She can rise to the surface and above this test.

For the Arms That Hold Me

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Oh!  For the arms that hold me!
For the hands that pick me up!
For my shelter, my strength,
For unending faithfulness,
For fathomless love,
For eternal mercy that comes from above!
Each and every day there is only one that I owe.
With every breath to Him I become more in debt.
And on the day when I’m finally home,
Shedding light on the secrets from the shadows finally crept,
Infinite forgiveness washes over me,
Unmakes them all, sin ceases to be.
Oh! For the price that bought this soul!
I can never repay, but this gift I can recieve.
Oh! For the day when I’ve come home.

Angel of Undoing

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These arms holding time,
Holding time against the tide.
Against the tide of entropy.
This and all we cannot see,
Many are the hands that take
Numberless for heavens sake.
Standing in the ruined place,
With a blind, all seeing face.
Holding time, letting go,
A small bit everyday so,
The world around to decay goes.
In all age and ageless flows.
The angel of undoing,
The lord of entopy.
Sage of death;
Allowance of lifes surging breath.

Special thanks to Peter Mohrbacher for giving permission to use his inspiring artwork.
View the original and other works here:
http://www.angelarium.net/news/2015/9/22/armaros-angel-of-undoing

Cold Morning

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On a cold morning,
Waiting for winters, ice cold
Breath to steal summer.

We All Dream Of Heaven

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We all dream of heaven,
Though we all cannot go.
Of the week, each seven,
Remind us, the dreams below.
Eerily reminiscent images on a wall,
Shows us the dreams that surface,
And tells us how far we fall,
With greed, unable to save face.
The same beneath a mask of death
We’re not very different,
Down to our last breath.
And there the image on the wall
She looks the same as you to me.
We are the same in death we fall,
We are the same in dreams we see.
We all dream of heaven,
And dream of it we must.
It’s the hope that keeps us going
Before fading into dust.

Breathe

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Asphyxiation.
Learning how to breathe again,
Not impossible.

No End I Fear

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I turn away and hold my breath
Yesterday is in its grave, turning.
Today remains silent before its death,
I wait for an hour to call my own.
I realize I own no minute I breathe,
Every heartbeat I’m given is merely a loan,
And at the blink of my eye, I might leave.
I know not the date of my end,
So I’ll make the most of my time here,
I will prepare my soul until then,
And there will be no end I fear.