Whatever Happened

Whatever Happened.

He’s crying and he’s coming
To lots of conclusions.
He’s crying and coming
To believe the illusions.
He’s crying and he’s coming
To lose all control.
Picking up fragments at random of soul.

Grasping at God where before there was none,
Sliced through the heart when he should have been numb,
Healed by a prayer when terror erases
The sceptical mind and the painful embraces.

Through vast, empty corridors sand blows away,
Which only existed in there for a day.
It should never have been there, too fine to exist
In the cavernous halls with the wind to resist.

The flashbacks get shorter and far more intense,
He sees between third and fourth poles of the fence,
Carved in the timber which crumbles away,
His life is a scar. He lies back to pray.

Before fence the guns lie, sticks in the mud,
Before guns a tooth and the taste of the blood,
Before tooth, serenely floating, suspended in bliss,
Before countdown commences with innocent kiss.
Before formed, a gene in his parents and theirs,
A fraction of cell which was caught unawares,
By theory detached from existence by form,
Of electrical impulse, a piece of the storm.

As I cry and I come
With your daughter today,
I shall try to forget all the things that you say,
And all that’s apparent, the cuts and contusions,
The pain and the fear and self-serving illusions.