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The Unchained Soul

The day was dead and cursed,
The stage stood as a vacuum,
Containing everything yet feeling hollow,
The wind had ceased to breathe,
Yet the nostril sensed the air grow heavy.

For the act had ended the man,
Like a hanged soul suspended from the ceiling,
Completely breathless,
Entirely senseless,
Utterly mindless
His nose no longer smells,
His heart no longer feels,
His eyes no longer see,
His skin no longer senses
Seemingly, dead.

Yet his face was glorious,
As if still burning alive inside,
Cradling hope within his soul,
His mind had vanished into silence
But his tongue seemed desperate,
To narrate the tale of pain
That hunted his life and heart,
Like a nightmare born of thunderous midnight.

I felt his ear, so sensible,
As if forever ready to listen
To words of compassion and love,
For the pain and woe of his life
That led his conscience toward the act.

I had known him long 
A man carved from courage and bravery,
A hero forged in war,
Celebrated in the great stories of this good earth.
Yet my heart could not reach
The pain hovering silently around his life,
That slowly dried his lips
And fed him the hunger of death.

His thoughts were one of a kind
Brighter when standing before light,
Braver when standing before fright,
Yet his final act numbed me completely,
And with sorrow, he drowned me.

Each and every one murmured,
In awful tones threaded with sorrowful words,
While their eyes told an entirely different truth.
The whole scene of the play
Made me want to laugh
It drove my mind toward madness.
The murderers wore faces of compassion,
The killers stood tall as accusers,
Calling him an addict, a coward, a fraud.

Yes, he may have struggled with addiction,
But he was never hypnotized
By the illusion of their convenient truths.
Yes, he may have seemed a coward,
For living on a land
Poisoned by illusion,
Where trust in hope had long dissolved
But he was a brave one.
Who else could face their own ending,
Carrying enormous pain within,
Flooded by measureless tears,
And still decide?
Yes, he was a brave one,
To choose his own end,
For his soul now eternally lives,
Refusing to be imprisoned
By the judgments of those
Who never once felt his weight.

His soul now flies over the open sky,
Roaming freely across infinite worlds,
Dancing to the rhythm of freedom,
As no one remains to ask,
How?

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