Spirit-Man
I saw the dark man dying
in the desert alone,
with no where left to go,
he chokes upon his last breath,
and still tries to rise again,
but there is no hope left,
pegged to the ground,
he fights yet and life slips
through calloused finger tips,
just like the red sands
in a hot unforgiving wind.
And there stands the man
with a white face,
we all know him as Doctor Bones,
he laughs the crows away
and calls the ravens home,
playing scales on your vertebrae.
while he whispers in my ear
songs of death both new and old.
Somewhere there is a truth
that has been buried,
somewhere there is a lie
not uncovered, and I am both
here and there.
He looks into your soul,
like a winters chill,
he is the trickster and the fool,
the wise man and the lunatic sage,
he dances where they fall.
While time conceals all,
and a desert will become
just a desert again,
a place with no name
never to be found,
anywhere, and everywhere,
you never forget
the man with the white face
who sings lullabies
to the grave.
