Turbulent

In hearts of the dark;
The snow that bears the weight of the damned.
Cremated by the wispy clouds,
And the shadows that blossom,
Within all the hearts of men.

I wander in their wake,
Under the fragrance of the trees,
The spices that flavour the wind.
Why is it,
That divided we stand,
And united we fall?

From the cold grip,
That omits the cruelty of our race,
The shadows of humanity,
And the lights of religion,
So how can I claim?
That I be the messiah,
When the God I thought I served,
Becomes the constant that lies beneath my feet?

So I here the final cries,
Of the lives that bore my enemies,
And the weapons that struck them down.
So how can you claim,
That the heart I now bear,
Is only filled, with this, innocent sorrow?

I laugh in the face of my defeat,
And the ancestors that carried it before my home,
I can only remember,
The shadows that fill the spaces between my glassy doom.
So what happens when,
When Genocide I was taught to fear,
Becomes the basis,
Of the religion, I am taught to follow?