Shackled

Now, from these eyes
Stream rivers of broken
Hymns, troubled thoughts
And shattered dreams;
Crippled soul shackled by
The shadows of your falsity,
Tormented with thorns of
Deviousness and pretense.
But when the morrow's
Glow reaches you amidst
The forests you have made
Your abode, and find you
Weary of the noises of
Sovereign beasts; when the
Pedestal has lost its prestige
With tedious rituals and
Praises now trivial; when truth
And yearnings begin to haunt --
You shall wander around
Plateaus you once dared
To tread, yet deserted
With no traces nor waves.
In your quest shall you find
The soul reunited with its
Destiny, freed from misery --
Never again bending,
Nor ever again returning.
Then from your eyes shall
Stream rivers of rueful hymns,
And your lonesome soul,
Remains tormented with thorns,
Shackled by the shadows
Of your own hypocrisy.

©danabelle 09.16.12