Salem’s Childe – Prometheus



The Storm

Chaos consuming
Colors collide
Capture the essence
Of being but not
All as one
And nothing defined
Rapture of reason
Unwritten by rhythm
Restless and reckless
Rending the senses


An overwhelming sense of being

Weighing of this reality

The will to be

To live

To breathe

To die


And unmade

And settled by this gravity


A crowded emptiness

In the limitations of reason

A focused point of entropy

Expression becomes

Its own hallowed season

Forgotten in what used to be


What if?

Is and is not

Potential in its being

Manifest in the asking

Undone by its becoming


What I have

What I hold

All that I

Must let go


And in myself

Find myself free