Sounds of the Lonely
Written By
Ryan Patrick Bailey
From the corners of the midnight tipping,
Does the wind thus sift from one lay to another,
Grasp sheer isles of blissful innocence
And glance upon that which was.
For the sounds of requiem
Open this heart and shed no fears
A lasting plea for the next of kin
To be and to hold a sound of hope.
As I stand before the folding plague over worlds
That stands a test of what claims time to be
Twice has it then brought me forth the realm
Into a fiery abyss do you, the shadow, claim me.
Sifting through the music
Fade into the distance
Bring to the table a drink of wine
A bloody vengeance of peace.
Taken from me was the life I led
Of days and hours spent in great multitude
Regretful sought the angel was
As his wings spread over me in breaths of one.
That I say to the sweet hereafter
I wish yet to become of one with you
No further shall this soul ride
The blissful innocence still resides.
And with thee, shall I come to be
What has forgotten in these days of yet
Springing forward in spirals of flaming guilt
I grasp a hold of what one was.
Birds of lost, shelter far comforts
Of hearts and loves entwined
Singing sweet songs that take me
Birds of find, abandon close lives
Crows the raven amidst snows of raining fire
Ice and fire quite entangled in loves far lost
Before I have thee heart so quaint,
Shall I remember that I have been no more.
Where to now does the faint run?
From hearts of sowed sin past?
Or to it now, do I slide inward?
Ever-gracing winds of sorrow.
Gapes of shadow run fluid over me now
From one to you I ask it now
For in your peace of giving
May I be forgiven in these treads of guilt.
Such sorrowful reigns of darkness
Famine of thine hearts raging
And yet I am but no one to speak
Without judgment due past.
As December winds fall from the sky
Sifting 'round me
Does it oh, so shine in such tranquility
That comforts me in knowledge of truth
Wherefore must this guilt attend
Meetings of graves once past
In shimmering alters of pain
And now shine forth no sun

Stare me into the eye, oh faithful one
What shall I say to thee who braids this soul?
In greatest consequence bleeds tears
Of great despair that now I am the same.
What once was mine is now yours
Brought forth from nothing
Into the fall your place
Come I, your final friend of lost.
And such birds crow now no more
Sifting winds halt in ceasing want
From that which has and was is only
As I welcome new sounds of the new-found lonely.