When you feel the wind
The runs over the bumps of your skin
But
No feeling may be sensed.
A tanglement of heart and soul
A conflict of interest one would say
A story told, and a moment expressed.
Dusk of the soul.
It runs deeply to the core
Your being may be locked
Your heart may be sealed
Darkness may entrench its
Ever reaching claws across
Dusk of the soul.
There it was.
It middle of the road.
A decision may be made,
Or it may be settled,
By the dusk of the soul.
To be lost is to be enslaved.
By the
Dusk of the soul.