Category Archives: First Age

A Chill

A chill runs down my spine.
Or is it the whisperings of a soul of ice and rain?
Like the spectral shadows cast by the moon,
Real and visible, yet shallow and haunting.
Or is it more like a star, flickering in the quiet distance,
Burning with the light of a thousand failed wishes?
I tell myself it’s just a chill, nothing more,
As I stare into the mirror’s reflective eyes.
How distant they look, as if someone deep
Within them were drowning…
Maybe someone was, as horridly wonderful
Memories flooded through his mind.
Memories like silk and steel, chipping away at his
Heart, bit by bit. Not with malice or spite,
But with the delicate destruction of love,
Until nothing remains, but a chill.


Valentine’s Day

Tears of joy,
A heart of pain,
Through a dirty window,
Empty rain.

A world of peace?
No, life is war.
We fight what is,
And what’s no more.

Bright angels fall,
From a cloudy sky,
They see their shadows,
And forget their light.

On all their faces,
Fear and lust,
The truths they hide,
The lies they trust.

Eyes of beauty,
A smile of grace,
All mean nothing,
On a plastic face.

Stone cold heart,
What do you see?
The things you want,
But cannot be.

The days you waste,
Failing to see,
The lives you shatter,

Love enslaved,
Can never grow,
In the hand of fire,
It melts like snow.

What is love?
A shard of pain?
What we lack,
And can’t attain?

An icy glare,
Like frozen steel?
A wound so deep,
It never heals?

A touch, a kiss,
A walk in the rain?
Or this strange emptiness,
That echoes her name?

So, what is love?
I really don’t care.
As I reach out to hold her,
And she isn’t there.


Cold December shades of gray,
The fire starts to die.
Vision blurs on frozen eyes,
I will shed no tears.

One spark still lives,
The war goes on,
A finite struggle,
To survive.

Soul of smoke,
A black trimmed sky,
Mirrors your lifetime,
Of madness.

When all strange visions,
Fade into none,
Somewhere a mind,
Still remembers.

As I stare into the dying embers,
They cry out to the wind,
But cold, cold December,
Never hears.

Snow Fell From Your Eyes

The night you said good-bye,
The wind blew bitter cold,
Frozen in my memory,
Is a love you couldn’t hold.

The price you paid, it echoes,
In the place you call a heart,
The icicles that hang there,
How they tear your soul apart.

Every second wasted,
For all it’s cosmic worth,
The death sentence that’s life;
Haunts us from our birth.

The only thing that matters,
Is the fire you hold inside,
It’s the only thing that warms you,
Through that final, frozen night.

Somehow your tears were frozen,
You never let them show,
And if the snow fell from your eyes,
I will never know.


The corridors are endless,
In this dark and lonely maze.
They stretch to touch infinity,
And there is no escape.

The mind becomes a prison,
The heart is frozen through,
Sharpness fades from tired eyes,
They turn to gray from blue.

Half smiles hide the sorrow,
Thin laughter masks the pain,
The soul grows dim and hollow,
As hope falls down in flames.

Is love but a delusion,
Is there really such a thing?
Or is it just the empty halls,
Of hearts broken in vain?

Last Things

The last thing I remember,
Was that lost look in your eyes,
The last words that you spoke to me,
How I always hoped you lied.

The final tears you cried for me,
Stung my heart so true,
The last time that I kissed your lips,
I guess we never knew.

The last time we danced so close,
And swore we always would,
We knew we’d last forever,
But we never understood.

The last time I held your hand,
Do you remember, too?
The final racing of my heart,
With one last smile from you.

The last time I saw you,
All the things I couldn’t say…
But in my eyes, “I miss you love,”
Forever anyway.


It’s not always our hearts,
That make us liars.
Sometimes it’s the world
We choose to believe in,
And what we do about it.

Trust is a difficult thing;
Sometimes it’s all too easy,
Most times, so painfully hard.
It lives and it grows,
But it also dies.

Am I a liar?
I suppose I am,
When my heart fails
To express itself with honest actions,
In every single day.

When a man hopes and dreams,
More than he lives…
More than he shares…
A man makes himself
A liar.