The Ways

Frail and holden are the ways
Sunken in a darkness of days

The steps that lead us on are tested are wrested from our world
From our sounds
And hopes
Lost and so real
I stay a while to contemplate their crackings

The ways are traces
Unfair images of our faces
Sodden frames of our lives
And they free our lies

Our divine scars
Then become a beautiful piece an iridescent thought
Scrawled like an afterthought of gods
Traced as if this were just some line in the sands of the universe
To be washed away with the next wave

And I cry that no
That all is so surreal
To be truly unreal
Something stands forever
In the lived minds of never

Please tell me I imagine
What is to have been
When we sleep we awake to the truth of our hopes
Our hopes are the translation of our beliefs
Songs of the deaf
Vistas of all the blinded ones
Tell me that I stand
My lies are true
My truths are more than lies