The Word Of The Lost

Fog, fingers and flames
Little rhymes
Going off time
A body loses its shape
I miss contours
And substance
When shall I begin?
A wander is lost
In search
Will she come home?
Why does the night turn to day?
To
Day
Is led astray
By a tide of ring tones
And fake promises
You will never be where you are
A coma of the senses
Taking you back
To be returned
To the origin
Decreation
I hover over the hills
Of Constantinople
I call out for history to retract
From its misconceptions
A betrayal spreading like blood
Through the centuries
Infuriating the veins of civilisation
We got closer once
Then we lost track
Then we were tracked down
Then we were simply down
I heard your prayer
Beneath shores of stone
Ships of bone
Chants of home
Of men together
And alone
If I could fell through the ages
Would I ever return?
If I could see through the ages
Would I see the world burn?
A thousand times again
A thousand times over
Time is the final makeover
The words of the lost are repeated
Though no one can hear them
No one that's here
Then
Why should we near hymn?
I feel I have misspoken
I apologize
I concede
I retract
I bow to your aptitude
To the necessities of the multitude
I no longer know what to say
But somehow this calms me down
No longer a mission or objective
To be completed in time
A score to settle or conquer
A game in hand
I flee from the surface of existence
I dive though the musty waters
Settle in the silt
I rain in the sand
Wet with peace
I return to me
And forget about all beginnings
Beneath shores of stone
Ships and thrones
Kingdoms of flashing eyes
Wide, dazzling grins
The mistakes are the same
Over coffee and latte,
Or ambrosia and honey
Too much delight can switch you down
The cable of creation
Is yours to keep
There's nothing to be learned
But plenty to forget
I take it you've never met
The stranger in your head
The person that stares back
On the other side of the mirror
Above the neck
Those eyes can see you
Better than mine
And yet I must decline
A guest so sublime
Through the strands of time
Making me yours and mine
I wish I could tell you
The words of the lost
But only the wise have spoken
And their silence
Is the last thing I hear
Perhaps their words have been lost
Or broken
By something stronger
Than bread or spear
Their words have been forgotten