WHEN TEMPESTS BLEED

I seem to be drawn to the subject of reincarnation. I find the prospects that one may have lived before rather fascinating, and if we have are those memoires locked within our psyche. What if they one day starts to surface. Are there skeletons it those cowebbed recesses. Would we really like to find out what we were and what we did. This poem is about such an occurance. A man begins having visions of events he knows nothing about and as they progress he realises some knowledge is best left forgotten. This started with the title which just popped into my head one day. How I arrived at this particular subject is anyone's guess. I also changed the rythm of the poem after a few verses. Again, don't know why, it just happened that way.

I sense the pulse of a distant voice
a tremor, faint, subdued
It crawls, it climbs from depths below
forsakes it's solitude
A murmur lost in labyrinths
so faint yet it persists
A lifeless hum of what once was
and what may still exist

Fragments form from peeling pasts
of pictures hung askew
A faceless fury simmers dormant
to arise anew
I hear it echo bold and stirring
reverberate through me
A perilous unwilling welcome
a hazy memories

I harvest recollections from
jumbled severed sights
Where a re-assembled tunnel looms
at the end of dimming lights
A river flows with vanquished visions
familiar, or so it seems
Grisly revelations pour from
many muted screams

There's an emenating afterglow
from countless unknown graves
Where bones concealed in restless earth
betrays the whim depraved
No wounds may heal when tempests bleed
into the vengeful stream
Among the slain uneasy sleep
will always intervene

I touch the soil awake the past
shudder at it's chill
Rupturing scars, a stowaway stench
unfurls against my will
Memoirs of murder etched into my mind
a latent reel unspools
Into the abyss of dread I peer
hollow vast and cruel

Serenity suffers wilting it's surface
to burrow beneath my veneer
Images bending disjointed unending
at my own reflection I stare
In a veil shrouded corner forgotten by mourners
lonely lies victims remains
Tucked in by the years drying up dusty tears
life frozen in their veins

Are we brothers in death pale silhouettes
or vagrants cast aside
Are we weeds for the vermin rocks for the sand
where the age of the ageless has died
Confounded I'm searching a mosaic emerging
revealing invisible truth
Who was I then will I become that again
last past the remnants of youth

A soothing surrender to violence tender
stitching the seams of time
Spectral traces I gaze at their faces
fearful of what I may find
The wild weaving wind gusts from within
as I can clearly see
I never succumbed to the hands of the beast
for the beast was always me