PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

He was walking down the endless hall
His peace message he took with him
His father opened his noisy rusty doors
Father what can I do to be free? he asked,

The subconcious of the stern breeze
it lives inside him bursting to explode

My son, freedom is at the door
the dancing funerals will behold
a secret which you must unlock

My son, freedom is at the door
Will you die for me tonight?
Will you trade your life for mine?
I can give you all that you want
I will make the cloudy skies open up
And turn the light on, while you walking down the hall

His father lighted the incense on his desk
with his aged and wrinkled hands
A kiss of incense blew inside his son's nostrils
He fell into a deep trance, a dream from which he never woke up...