Friday, May 12, 2006
This place is now a nest of darklings.
The air is rank with all their lies.
Once it rang with truth so sparkling;
But now, in the storm, truth dies.
The hall is dark, and much too fright’ning.
I’d rather stay beneath the bed.
The thunder screams behind the lightning.
Ill sirens scream inside my head.
I wonder if the Light is coming.
How I yearn to go Home.
I want no more of Hate’s smug humming.
No more this earth I wish to roam.
Take me home.