The Heart Of The Beast----Page 3

The only dream worth having is the
dream that ends all dreams. The fated rush
of anonymity filling us with dread. To wander
the city and fear our own deaths. Clutching
for a bitter immortality. The widow weeps and
curses the sky.
To be alone in the desert or on a beach.
To be alone in one's room. To be on one's knees
in an alley searching for a human touch. The
fear of life followed by the fear of death.
The sunset shines a golden hue on
slivers of broken glass. Shards of glass that
have pierced our shoes. The night brings a
hollow feeling to the hallways of our minds.
The carpets are stained with struggle. The
land is battered with love.
Open the window and feel the wind rush
through your hair and across your face. It is
a little birth. Hear your footsteps on the
sidewalk and know you are alive. Nothing
else exists.
The embrace of a lover. The most
intimate kiss. The physical hold on the
mind. The mental hold on the physical.
I walked upon the land and stretched
my mental wings until I saw you. There
were times I thought the wings were
broken. When I found you I realized that
I had been flying through the darkest
night faster than the speed of sound. I
thought I was dead and could not figure
out why I was breathing.