In the dark hallways of our schools,
At the black board, and now the white,
In the corridors of wealth and power,
In the bloody room of Love’s de-light.
In the basements and the alleys,
In the board rooms high and low.
While the adagio pain of dying,
Grips our fate from space below.
In the valleys off the Shadows
Of walking dead who gasp for air.
In the hallows and the burrows
Where undead wraiths breathe hatred’s prayer.
In the still black, benighted shadows,
Of your chained and blinded mind.
In the depths of wounded heart song,
You need no longer be confined.
And if hearing makes your heart skip
If realization brings strange delight.
If you blink and wonder softly,
Is this the end of darkest night?
Well it really all depends, dear.
On the things that you do next.
Whether messenger brings freedom,
Or accelerates lord Shiva’s breath.
So as end of line approaches,
Does the light comes shining through.
Or does fear, anger, and hatred.
Spin you round in witches brew.
Copyright Michael Sharp
All Rights Reserved