Freedom, god and beauty; Destruction, Lucifer and the beast (by Indana Simonde)

It began as the church bells chimed in unison at five am,
Always the same, no mumbling just rumbling in the corners of my mind,
Deep dark and foreboding, as though the clouds were about to snap into the higher order of things,
Then it happened, my story rewritten for the last time, never to see the light of day in the same fashion again,
Nobody knows of my hurt, do you? Do you? My pain, my anger, my lust,
It’s the freedom in the heart and soul that unites us with a common bond,
All that you have is our self worth

IT BEGAN AS THE CHURCH BELLS CHIMED IN UNISON AT FIVE AM
Child of the empty void in the shards of a splintered cosmic egg,
Hoping for a miracle where there is none,
The beat goes on, like there is nothing else, like there was nothing else,
I see the explosion in my mind, knowing that there is no way back,
But this time will bring finality for you,
This time will bring the end of all days,

It began as the church bells chimed in unison at five am,
A prayer at dawn for the sake of remembrance’s sake,
The chill is deep and foreboding, but suddenly I ask the shuddering question,
‘Were there faces in the water, eyes everywhere watching who I wanted to be?’,
It is so cold in my house, my line and kin,
Talk of culture makes me lose my appetite,
And all for want of a dream

It began as the black hawk flew over the occupied skies,
An armed encampment that was thinking little thoughts of the deep,
Will you ask of my world that none other toils for the jewel in the eye of the storm,
All the bells going sour to the sound of rotors as the dust fly’s towards the untouched air,
It’s not a sign of things to come as these things have already happened,
A drum beat begins in the emptiness of nothing,
As the fire in the heart of doom witnesses the white in his eyes as he steps out

It ended behind iron doors, as we said goodbye only with words,
Back to the bells, back to the toll, the tales of the fold,
Where a gentleman’s nature is lost to the state,
I go back to work as the gunfire ends in my mind,
Staring nondescriptly at a nonchalant soldier standing aloof,
It’s been near on two thousand five hundred and fifty five days,
Palestine to Syria, Afghanistan to Uzbekistan, he hears you through the reflection...