Here there is no harmony
Blanketed by the wings of a dove.
Here there is concentrated hate
Potently, poetically mixed
With this flagrant need to mate.
Here there is the desire to give pain
To hurt, to rent , to tear, to scratch
And then count every wound given a gain.
Here there is a roaring rage
I’m quite surprised
It’s not burning up this page!
Here there is the nothingness of grief
It was so little joy
Not even the memories bring relief.
Here is the rot of passion gone bad
Look closely and you will see
Beneath the mask, a face that is so sad.
Here is the madness that wants to kill
Shattered and shattering
A bitter destiny to fulfill.
Here is the dark moonless night of the heart
Alone, lonely shadow: it wanders in circles
Without an end, without a start.
We will leave it now with this, this our blessing,
And as we go away, we go away gently hoping
That it found some comfort in its anguished confessing.