The game is played by broken rules, But who should give a damn. Referees…shrill whistles silent against the roaring crowd, Retire quickly in the face of anarchy, Leaving fools to grope blindly for worthless treasures glinting bright in the sun but tarnishing quickly when mists of darkness settle over the glow. Still waters run deep in streams of doubt, But silence runs deeper than that. Words…unspoken or unheard, still echo and flail, In search of lips to part or ears to bend, Then fade and shrivel on untended vines of discomfort which lay tangled and twisted; webs of subtle deceit whose willing victims lie close together in separate worlds. The guiding stars lead no one home, When every wish falls short. Their light…diffused through storm clouds of discontent, Fades quickly in the rooms of dark regret, With curtains drawn tight against the grains of truth that blow endlessly on the winds of the spirit, seeking shelter from the storm as they tap on the windows of the soul. Seekers of truth and knowledge go blind When they see but do not believe. Faith…unclothed and exposed, left shivering in shame Pleads guilty in courts of the damned, As mortal frailties forge links to confine the innocence of childhood's shattered vows and promises, which died before birth. The fears held deep within the heart Feed quietly on dreams of the soul. Love…a two edged sword of need and desire, Cuts deeply and leaves its own scars, While Venus and Mars hold hands in the dark remembering the battles they waged in the light, plotting subtle revenge with casual cruelty. The game is played by broken rules, But who should give a damn. Referees…weary and abused, have all gone home, Leaving fairness to fend for itself as the crowd grows silent, While down on the field the players seem lost and confused without rules to break, and no one to stop them, and no one to care. |