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Midwinter



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Midwinter

Lords of Creation

Caress sweetly my instrument
When words can only fail,
Elicit naive notes from it
When clouds form to prevail
And fever shakes my burning heart
More fragile than it seems.
I raise my will to save my breast
A Phoenix-life again to lead.

Hark to the world from a different angle
As far too few are able to,
At least it's no big price to pay
To see - not even you.
For you were helpless innocent
And you'll stay for all your time,
You might reach the natural border,
I will build a further line.

Gathered round the fear that makes us strong -
Freedom!
Summoned to fulfil the human role -
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To grow!

Hordes of dread
Leave your throne.
We're the Lords of creation,
Human gods on our own!

A symphony
Carved in stone
Of bold, artistic glamour
Shall mark my home.

So scorn the dull, uncultured mob
Sticking on its seat
And satisfied with empty rubbish -
Ridiculous to me!

I caress my instrument...