My soul

“Death makes angels of us all”
Jim Morison said with some glee…

All torment and anguish will be rendered pure in the becoming of this our last hope of salvation- death. For our souls, which are not imbued with light but of darkness and decay, will ultimately suffer the impact of our actions and will not be released until then. This state, our retched life, is merely atonement for what we had and will do…

As it’s so often said “In winning all, we lost all... In winning what we thought mattered, we lost what truly mattered”. Is there a man out there who can say that it is not so for him?

I wish I could rewind time itself, that greatest illusions of them all; I wish I could change my history, the absolute paradox. I can see the angels tears, falling from the dark sky, down and down they fall, hitting the ground with a horrible sound.
The beginning of every end, and the end of every beginning. I am left with this sinking feeling that nothing is real anymore, everything slips through my fingers and there is nothing I can do to stop this. I remember all that has been said, all that has been done. The memory crushes my heart in its grip, my blood dripping in a ruby red sea.