The Flood

When the rain comes and it will come
will the birds sing, will the bells ring?
Who will know that it is done?

Swept away in the churning flood
carried on foam of angry crests
the dark sky rushes overhead
heavy with the black clouds of dread

and the wet trees stand
oblivious on the shore

Tattered Threads

I live in a world full of people
yet I am alone
They move around me

in a blur
as I stand frozen in the shadows
cast by men with cold hearts

Between the world of the living
and the dead I wander
a ghost passing unnoticed
through the eternal dimness
held together by tattered threads

I shout, but no one hears me
lost in the roar of everyday life
they forget the forgotten and
send me the unspoken message
that indeed even God has forsaken me