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Raining Stones

Raining Stones

You claim you have a face you claim is not spoiled by beauty, and I know you have eyes that can see right through me, and are unafraid of those things you have seen; along with those scars I carry that the sun’s dark light wouldn’t or couldn’t heal from where I have been. I was once told those cuts would heal and that I would feel nothing when they happened. There is a light we can’t always feel and a dark that can always be felt when the shadows come knocking.

My whole life has been like I have been waiting for the right time and at times seems as though I have just been lost and wonder what I can do? Recalling standing there in the falling rain as I was told that everything was all-right even if I felt like giving everything up, and wondering what can I do, as I question how I should feel? With there being no place to walk away to, as I take in all play by play, and feel everything blow by blow. But then when you’ve been fighting every day, and every hour pain is converted to power; not ever giving them the satisfaction of seeing me bleed or crawl though the blood might burst from my veins.

As I come up to meet you as you come back to haunt me in my thoughts and dreams. We both have been roaming around and could always use each other and what we both carry in our thoughts and words that we use as a form of currency. Though there are times I question what is seen by you in me, and totally agree that the Devil is in the details and has us feeling as though we are walking through the wasteland with the ghosts in the machine.

Knowing that we wonder why our hearts and souls seem to feel so bad, with simulated sunsets seen on the horizon and with starlight in our eyes we know that the miracles in the skies are nothing more than lies. It seems like a fine line and strange times we are travelling through, and some nightmares are worse when you are awake and someone is looked Hope is what the for, and is the only thing that can be taken for the fallout they cause, with every word heard from that night.

Once in a while I feel no shame and get on my knees and pray, and with hand on my heart I pledge to take a stand. With the breeze blowing while I make and state my case, and I know in my head there is a mirror that becomes food for those self proclaimed saints that are quick to judge me. As they tell lies in disguise in the name of trust, still there is hope for a bad man.

Faith can move mountains, and fire can cleanse our souls; and mind over matter won’t stop or allow the heart to give in. So if all is torn asunder we can stoop to rebuild all that we have built with worn-out tools, even if there is a fine line between friend and foe near those rivers of blindness, whirlpools of lies, and waterfalls of pity

Hope is what the damned in Hell hold within them in order to dream of the Kingdom of Heaven, and always springs eternal against the darkness.

Copyright Timberwolf International LTD: January 2016 – 02

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

Copyright © Copyright Timberwolf International LTD. All rights reserved. Copyrighted and protected under the copyright laws of both The United States and of The United Kingdom. Under U. S. Code Title 17 § 204. No unauthorized duplication by any means including electronic, or copying may be allowed unless permission is asked for in writing and permission therefore granted by the author or copyright holder, or his/her agent. In writing and signed by the owner of the rights conveyed or such owner’s duly authorized agent. And duly witnessed by his or her representative or duly assigned agent. Under penalty of copyright infringement or intellectual property theft. All violators will be prosecuted.

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