Voices Of The Dark Poem by Richard Weissman

The voices are shattered, from dark and dismay,
Muttering hopelessly, their souls gone astray,
With knowledge too bright to mimic their way,
He drinks from love's light, transforms feet of clay.
But the voices shriek deathlessly in tormented pleas,
"From soft white light mercy, wipe clean our disease."
Nods from love's smile, his pathway is clear,
With aid of its strength, there's nothing to fear.
Embracing its essence, their life paths do part,
He submerges mid blackness, with white in his heart,
And Godhead has blessed him, with eyes of winged vision,
So he wanders dark labyrinths, without indecision.
Scent of grey rotting corpses, seeing children scream,
Inhaling the agony as he flies through their dream.
Drifting through nightmares, mastering shadow's way,
Dark voices glean truth in all he doth say.
And Godhead has blessed him, with eyes of winged vision,
So he wanders dark labyrinths, without indecision,
Shared bliss abandoned, he illumines night's way,
Though paradise is forsaken, he'll reclaim it someday,
And, mid transcendent redemption of that fateful clear morn',
New Heaven, New Earth and New Jerusalem will be born.