The Jester

I can but ever look within
The darkest regions in my mind
Where all that wants to be can want
For nothing, and I often find
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To fall in love as easily
As winter turns to spring
I start to dread the moment when
My heart begins to sing.
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Thoughts cannot be masteres
Dreams cannot be tamed
They tear our hearts and cloud our minds
And leave our bodies maimed.
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Across the night, the moon is towing
A host of clouds that start it snowing
Upon the silver rivers flowing
A tumbing star, the first flake falls
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One blackened night in Winter's heart
When dreams set sail to sense depart
Twisted in some starry art
I'd sigh for evermore.
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Clad in gold and swathed in red
Crown of jewels upon his head
Velvet gloves of orange fire
Glorious and fine attire
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Surrounding shadow closes in
The darkness hangs, begins to grow
With eyes that pierce the shields of men
And fire burns each friend and foe
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Standing on a distant tower
Plains of green upon it's feet
Worshipping some hidden power
Secrets stone and fire keep.
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To glance on beauty so complete
Breath is stolen far away
An aching heart and spinning head
Lips are swollen, eyes are dead
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Among the trees, where shadows lie
Voices break and spirits die
Song is falt'ring, hope is gone
Darkness so lasting and long
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The darkest moments of our lives
When hope itself goes black and dies
And life shrinks in around our throats
We choke on smoke and dust.
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I love the Moon most in this world
Dancing on skies on coal.
She shies away, but the light she gives
Still falls upon my soul.
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One night I lay upon the floor
The carpet cold against my back
And out the finger-printed window
Sky of silent, stretching black.
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As I lie on my bed
And watch the moon
Travel the dark ink sky
On the glass
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There is a veil that separates
Two worlds within a world
As fine as woven gossamer
A net long since unfurled.
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I am forever pulled towards
The search for some more worthy cause
The only need I hold inside
Is to cause someone, somewhere pride
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Forgive me for asking but I cannot endure
The pain that resides in my heart anymore
As much as I long to be sorely mistaken
I cannot deny what I know.
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To those that say that love is fine
A velvet cloak of joy divine
As light and free as Summer's song
I say that you, my friends, are wrong.
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