Irish?

Irish?

Irish teetered, looking down to the waves.
Unknown blackness, swirling underwater caves.
The burning world behind him, catching up to fast.
Flames lick his heal, as he tries stepping back.

The moment is now, Irish, you must decide.
Jump to the black or to the flames you abide.
Decide, sweet Irish!… it’s time to decide!
And below the sirens sing:
“Irish come play with us. Come set yourself free.
The waves always brings us where we need to be.”

Irish, you sit now? Burning comfortably on your peak?
Is knowing death better than the life you fear to seek?
But Irish cannot hear us, he’s chosen his path.
Fear defeated freedom, he’s waiting for Death’s wrath.

The moment was now, Irish, you had to decide.
Jump to the black, instead the flames you abide.
Decide, sweet Irish, did you finally decide?
And below the sirens sing:
“Irish won’t play with us, won’t set himself free.
The waves would have made him what he yearned to be.”

It’s never to late, Irish….jump!… and see!

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2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Kevin
    Jan 26, 2015 @ 14:45:47

    Your work still inspires me to this day. Reading it years later gives me a whole different feeling. Your light shines through me to this day.

    Reply

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