verum
02-29-2008, 09:10 PM
Weak, weary from the day,
I laid my head to sleep.
And as I closed my eyes to pray,
They began to weep.
“I know not myself,” I cried
To the heavens, silence in return.
My past forgotten, cast aside,
My memories had I burned.
A glimpse of something dark and swift,
Shot in the corner of my eye.
But it quickly disappeared,
Surely not for long.
I sat up and looked around foolishly,
And a figure did I see.
It stared in silence and I thought,
Death must have come to me.
Suddenly the room had changed,
To an open, moonlit field.
Death was standing in front of me,
An open hand to yield.
“Come, lost traveler,” he said to me
But I knew not what to do.
On a journey I was not,
Simply wishing to be free.
I found myself reaching out
To the shadowed, open hand.
And when I touched I found myself,
In a room, open and grand.
It seemed quite strange,
Empty the room was. Except for
A lonely book, in the center,
Of the floor.
I walked up and opened it,
To read it, I began.
But before I could finish it.
It seemed to absorb my hand.
Deeper and deeper I sank,
Into the hungry page.
Eventually I was engulfed,
And fell into the abyss.
I landed in a stone laid hall,
The figure next to me.
I rose to my feet and looked around,
To see where I did fall.
“I bring you here,” the figure said,
“To show you who you are,
For you are a young and dying soul,
Now I must make things clear.”
He led me down the passageway,
Ahead I saw a door.
As we approached I felt a pain
And my heart filled with dismay.
I looked inside as the figure spoke
To tell me what was inside.
“This is the room inside your mind,
Which heartbreak does evoke.”
“Your past haunts this crowded room,
Although you do not see.
For ghosts are invisible,
And terrors you cannot see.”
“All sad songs come from here,
So does the deep depression.
This is the room which does take over,
In your great recession.”
“This is the deepest of your mind,
we soon will reach the outer limits
and your soul will be refined.”
So then we walked on down the hall
And arrived at the next room.
“This is the intellectual side,
Slightly near the surface.
You show it every once and a while,
But often with no purpose.”
“I know that you are quite deep yourself
Although you often hide.
Beneath the fake smiles and laughs,
But deep inside your mind,
You know that you think more than that,
But don’t want them to see,
You are someone of a different kind.”
I stood in shock as I listened here,
To my persona read before me.
This demon seems to know me well,
This definitely seemed quite queer.
So on we went, to another door,
This one was brightly lit.
It seemed this was a happy place,
But perhaps it was much more.
“This is the room for your love,
As you can see its lit so bright.
Up until a year ago, it was not so
At least until you seemed to have found,
The love of your life.”
We walked longer down the passage,
To the final room, on the left ahead.
As I approached the figure faded,
Leaving me behind.
I was left to find my way,
Through the stony maze.
I looked into the final room,
I gasped as I saw the truth before me.
As I turned away,
The image burned inside my head,
In that ghastly tomb.
I woke from my sleep,
Gasping for air.
I searched for the truth,
In my despair.
What was in the room, you ask?
This I shall reveal.
For deep inside my mind were many rooms,
And still I think them real.
A room for sadness,
Ruled by a painful past.
A room for thought,
Hidden behind a mask.
A room for love,
Lit by my dearest’s light.
A final room,
And something I can recite.
“Pro Verum , Vultus Haud Porro”
For truth, look no further.
I laid my head to sleep.
And as I closed my eyes to pray,
They began to weep.
“I know not myself,” I cried
To the heavens, silence in return.
My past forgotten, cast aside,
My memories had I burned.
A glimpse of something dark and swift,
Shot in the corner of my eye.
But it quickly disappeared,
Surely not for long.
I sat up and looked around foolishly,
And a figure did I see.
It stared in silence and I thought,
Death must have come to me.
Suddenly the room had changed,
To an open, moonlit field.
Death was standing in front of me,
An open hand to yield.
“Come, lost traveler,” he said to me
But I knew not what to do.
On a journey I was not,
Simply wishing to be free.
I found myself reaching out
To the shadowed, open hand.
And when I touched I found myself,
In a room, open and grand.
It seemed quite strange,
Empty the room was. Except for
A lonely book, in the center,
Of the floor.
I walked up and opened it,
To read it, I began.
But before I could finish it.
It seemed to absorb my hand.
Deeper and deeper I sank,
Into the hungry page.
Eventually I was engulfed,
And fell into the abyss.
I landed in a stone laid hall,
The figure next to me.
I rose to my feet and looked around,
To see where I did fall.
“I bring you here,” the figure said,
“To show you who you are,
For you are a young and dying soul,
Now I must make things clear.”
He led me down the passageway,
Ahead I saw a door.
As we approached I felt a pain
And my heart filled with dismay.
I looked inside as the figure spoke
To tell me what was inside.
“This is the room inside your mind,
Which heartbreak does evoke.”
“Your past haunts this crowded room,
Although you do not see.
For ghosts are invisible,
And terrors you cannot see.”
“All sad songs come from here,
So does the deep depression.
This is the room which does take over,
In your great recession.”
“This is the deepest of your mind,
we soon will reach the outer limits
and your soul will be refined.”
So then we walked on down the hall
And arrived at the next room.
“This is the intellectual side,
Slightly near the surface.
You show it every once and a while,
But often with no purpose.”
“I know that you are quite deep yourself
Although you often hide.
Beneath the fake smiles and laughs,
But deep inside your mind,
You know that you think more than that,
But don’t want them to see,
You are someone of a different kind.”
I stood in shock as I listened here,
To my persona read before me.
This demon seems to know me well,
This definitely seemed quite queer.
So on we went, to another door,
This one was brightly lit.
It seemed this was a happy place,
But perhaps it was much more.
“This is the room for your love,
As you can see its lit so bright.
Up until a year ago, it was not so
At least until you seemed to have found,
The love of your life.”
We walked longer down the passage,
To the final room, on the left ahead.
As I approached the figure faded,
Leaving me behind.
I was left to find my way,
Through the stony maze.
I looked into the final room,
I gasped as I saw the truth before me.
As I turned away,
The image burned inside my head,
In that ghastly tomb.
I woke from my sleep,
Gasping for air.
I searched for the truth,
In my despair.
What was in the room, you ask?
This I shall reveal.
For deep inside my mind were many rooms,
And still I think them real.
A room for sadness,
Ruled by a painful past.
A room for thought,
Hidden behind a mask.
A room for love,
Lit by my dearest’s light.
A final room,
And something I can recite.
“Pro Verum , Vultus Haud Porro”
For truth, look no further.