Ariadne's Thread

Strangest Days

The guilt, endless guilt

ever rise, beyond the eyes

of jilted frustrations

burning intonations, all in wonderment

delight, the skies light up

with colors flashing, i am in this place

fancy and full, buried and still

so the guilt does surprise

all i see is something, more than you

in loneliness waiting, or wanting in two

two such as life, one such as you

the guilt, and pain, does offer

a way, for me to remain

or feel, even alive, if nothing was

in past perfect, something more than my life

then, in nothing, i would feel, the trials

seem as nothing, with guilt painted

on my body, at night, such is life

such in life does allow, for the feelings still

survive with a flicker, in this raging wind

hollowing at night, fascinations do grow

around the most idle of cares, and so i am

so i am, in the strangest days, this strangest place

where guilt gives way, to let me, feel alive

if nothing else, than nothing still

i will tackle fortune, with new smiles

with which, i greet, now and forever more

as one day guilt will leave, behind, these days

when one was but a child, but i always was