KnghtWf's blog: "Purgatory"

With his eyes, he sees her beauty, But it's not the thing that pulls Him to her. With his ears, he hears her sweet voice But it's not the thing that pulls Him to her. With his dreams, he feels her touch, But it's not the dream that pulls Him to her. With his heart, he sees another heart, One that has been tormented One that has lasted even through The toughest of times. With his soul, he hears her soul Tortured to the point of tears, Yet standing strong. With his words, he tries to touch her, And prays that she knows that His words are true. He sees more than just the beauty That was given at birth, He sees the beautiful angel That no one else appreciates, That no one else truly knows. The one that may have a tarnished halo, And yes, she has broken wings, Yet, someday, those wings will heel, And she'll soar above him. He sees the goodness in her heart, And even through the pain, He see the blessing that she is, Not because of her eyes, or hair, But because of the beauty in her heart and soul. All of this is what pulls him to her, And all of this he sees. Robert J Nye (2007)

Firey blazing heat rising beyond my contol, I watch in amazement as I lose myself In the midst of the flames, And watching myself from afar, I realize that I am not in control. Outside my reach everything seems to be, And I can't just stand by and watch, I have to do something, Someone will be hurt. Thick brimestone ash fills the air As the souls of those scream unheard, I fight my way past Satan's minions, And I drag the fluid of life with me, Drowning every little flicker left Left in this beast's soul. He stops and hears a wimpering soul Locked in deep closet within the firey hell And Satan himself wouldn't stay, And I am the one that faces the dangers And I am the one that pulls this soul free, And as I look there are many like me Fighting the hell's that are created Here on earth. They call us firemen. Robert J Nye (2007)

He watches from his perch above his head, The vulture that has circled him for days. He wasn't dying, though at times, He felt his soul being torn apart. He trudges through the demonic turmoil That is his life. The vulture watches. There's really is no life. He climbs each broken step, stumbling As he reaches past each twisted thorny vine. He bears the scars of the battles waged- Not on his physical being, But on his heart and soul. The vulture still sits eyeing him As if he was giving up the ghost. He pushes past the brimstone gates, And refreshing air fills his lungs. He looks out into the world in front of him, And sees the beauty unfold. He looks forward and sees a path he has never taken, Perhaps to some the "road less taken", And with a little fear and resolve, He steps into the world that is anew, And he is escaping hell. Robert J Nye (2007)

He trudges through the darkness of everyday, And forces his way through the murkiness Because he is stuck between Heaven and Hell- That's where his past has left him. He watches an angel above, He see her wings spread wide, But she carries a warrior's sword. Flaming beauty and vengeful coldness. His broken heart held in place by stubborness, And fused by the flame of passion in his soul. He knows that he'll never make it to Heaven, But does know that the inner fire that guides him Is fueled by the Hell that he has been through. His vengeful coldness- Hidden in his own flaming beauty. No one can see the pain, and no one cares, All they see is a man struggling to stand tall, A man seeking to be accepted for what he is- Not perfect, but he can speak the perfect words He writes with his soul every day, And still no one takes the time to know him. They see his gentle face and hear his kind words, But they know not the tortured soul That hides behind the green eyes. The soul that longs to be held The soul that seeks companionship- His soul- It has fought Hell's fury and won, And it just looking for Heaven's touch. Robert J Nye (2007)

It hides deep in his soul, Yearning to escape, In his words, it remains hidden, But you can see it in his eyes. The lust that lurks behind his kindness, The flame in his soul is filled With the stench of brimstone. He hides his horns beneath the wide brimmed hat, And no one would guess, That the hidden darkness is pushing At the gate. Ready to escape into the world. Would he cause havoc and despair, No one would know that his broken heart Is all that holds back the darkness. The hidden darkness behind his green eyes, Behind his gentle face. He is the devil... a fallen angel, But no one knows... no one sees... The hidden darkness. Robert J Nye (2007)

Awaiting to hear your voice, I sit in the darkness of the world Hoping for your return. I live in the moments that we shared, But the world is dying around me. I can only hear the terror the overwhelms With absolute darkness and silence. Soul tearing and heartbreaking in the midst of what was complete happiness. It would have been blissful ignorance, As I miss you more for having gotten but a moment of your life. I damn the day that my heart called to you And I seen that smile. Now, in this moment, without you, I see only the darkness of this world-- The world without you in it. Painful yearning to hold you, And the ruthless nagging knowledge That I may never have that chance. Sea flavored tears rushing endlessly, As I wait day after day. Deep, hollowing heartbeats, as I try to see past this chaos, And it was my own damned heart that created it. If for only a moment, I had listened with the knowledge of man Who has reached my age through the trials, Instead, no, I gave with the childlike belief That if it's true and good, It would be returned. Now, I sit in my heartfelt misery, With the knowledge that Heaven is a place. Not where I reside, but where happiness is constant, And the smile is a beckoning call. The smile of an angel- It makes the rest of the world not matter, And I have that knowledge, And the smile, I want it to be because of me, But alas, I have nothing to offer you, I have only my heart, which was yours before I even had knowledge of the true beauty. If my own heart had not been broken and scarred, Perhaps I would know which direction to turn. I followed it to you, And now I wait to see where it is that you truly stand, And until then, I sit here, Watching the approaching darkness, And missing the angel that once lit my path, That smiled when I spoke, The one who stood breathless at my words. In my own predestined hell, I have come to rest for eternity. Robert J Nye (2007)