Danse Macabre
Danse Macabre is German for Dance of Death...
Transfixed by the movements, the musical vibrance,
We move to the tune of invisible sirens.
Reality reposes with the closing of eyelids,
Then lies change to truth and peace transforms violence.
As the colors fade from blue, all noise turns to silence.
Upon awakening, I feel an icy hand capture me;
Pulling me down, closer to insanity.
Vertigo sets in, but the dizzying gravity
Helps to realize the hand is my own, that I’m actually
Standing stock-still, alone, blinded while I atrophy.
With our head down and eyes dripping wet,
Feeling hasn’t slipped from us yet.
Silence is a burden we grow to regret,
But still a reminder of that which is set:
The music of a past we’ll never forget.
A distant drone, or a heartfelt beating,
Omnipresent and ever-repeating.
Tongue tipped with malice, the devil is feeding
And tightening the noose which constricts our dreaming.
While robbed of our fruits we lie quiet,.. selfish and bleeding.
As we sit cradled by cold, grim hands,
Choice is beckoning, it calls, it demands
To face the music and to take a stance.
And as the echo lives on through our second chance,
We’re helplessly drawn into this wreckless dance.
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