I forge the path that I walk, alone with my back to the doors of my prison; an open road that seems endless before me and I found that each day that I stop the revolving world and inspect the framework of my thoughts and motivations that inspire movement.
Each step taken as I breathe deep.
Each sight and sound entices and taunts me.
The fear rises up inside of me.
Panic!
I cannot run or make undone the past; these moments; the words that were spoken.
Each step now heavy; burdened; but I choose to...
Dance with the dead and with the spirit of freedom burning within.
We must.
Dance with the dead and it's the lessons that lead us inspire our strength.
Embraced in white noise in a coma-like sleep as the world around me moves in its twists and its turns.
As I seem to float along in spirit; in flesh above and below connected with the pain.
This Narrow path I walk alone leads me to cities filled with souls.
Lost in the tempest empty ambition fills the streets.
Suppressed deception like the cracks in the foundations of buildings
Shadow meets light like waves crashing and receding each day.
As time passes I feel the breathing of crowded streets.
Dance with the dead. This life without breath.
There's no time for amends this epitaph I send.
Dance with the dead and with the spirit of freedom burning within we must.
Dance with the dead and its the lessons that lead us and inspire our strength.
The earth is cracked.
The water rises and I could hear them scream choking then there was silence of the dead.