With These Words
By Penn & Paper
one - naught
With these words, I end my life. With these words, I begin anew.
I rise and fall as the phoenix, with these words. As I shed my feathers like the dying shed their mortal coil. unable to breath under the weight of my past, cringing and sobbing as I loose myself at the end of this life, burning myself in a shaking blaze, to a bitter black dust of indigo ink. In that grayish naught, I catch glimpses of the tragedy that has befallen me... the life I have lived.
With these words, I see the past, the future, and that far beyond even goddesses.
I see time and space, with these words.
In my own ashes, I see what has occurred, what is to come, what has yet to be or even been thought of.
Then with these words, I forget, and begin once more.
These words.
With these words, I will fix everything.
With these words, I shall know what it takes to truly become all which I sought in my pained youth.
And, so, I humbly speak the ancient words of regret and loss.
Unwind thou threads, o’ spinning top,
spin, spin, spin back, without stop,
Let thee fix what hath gone wrong,
turn back the clock til dawn,
further still, if thy might ask,
let thee shed this gelded mask,
breath into thine body a new life,
free thee from thine strife,
thine offer this life in a burning exchange,
wash ‘way thine sins in a fiery rain...
