Melancholy

 

Melancholy, whisper gently lest the Eagle awakes

Was that the sound of his ‘heart’ about to break?

 

The Eagle sleeps rocked by the sweet hand of Death

Await, was that a tear, was that a gentle breath?

 

Was that a ‘Star’ that sparkled in shiny ‘blue’?

Was that the Sun that turned into ‘grayish hue’?

 

Was that an Angel, an ephemeral earthly guest?

Was that an ‘Eagle’ tired of his ‘burdened nest’?

 

Melancholy, whisper gently lest the Sleeping Eagle flies

Unto the voiceless mountains with troubled eyes

 

Lest ‘Death’ feeds on his anguished 'burning brain'

On a heart tormented with years of ‘unbearable pain’

 

The ‘Heart’ is now still; that once stood to the storm

A mighty Angel was ‘caged in a feeble human form’

 

Peace, peace! Death has won him; yet the celestial ‘light’

Still shines the way to ‘Heaven’ on his ‘last eternal flight’

 

Max O’Reilly

Silver Eagle

Rise, Silver Eagle, and shake the dust

Fly with the scorching wind; hover with the gust

Soar high above the clouds into a dream
Turn the world into chaos with your thundering scream

Shake the dust of years past and years to come
With your everlasting scream strike them dumb

Behold, the flaming orb, awaits your wing
Fly unto the sun, your burning throne, O’King

And there unite with God; “O’ hasten thither
No more let life divide what Death can join together.”

 

Max O'Reilly

Cloud Whisperer

 

An ‘Eagle’ flew above the gloomy clouds
That engulfed him in a misty shroud

The ‘Eagle’ whispered to the clouds to ‘rain’
The downpour entrapped him in a watery bane

Lightning struck and broke his feeble wings
The mighty storms blew in full swing 

The Eagle lifted his broken wings in flight
And flew higher toward that blissful light

The Eagle, to the sky’s embrace, has flown
Fearless; is that his coffin or his throne?

In Heaven he will now eternally dwell
It was the time for him to bid farewell

Do not grieve or his passing mourn
For he is at Peace; and unto Peace reborn

Max O'Reilly

Awake 'Me' not!

 

Awake 'Me' not! surely 'I' take 'My' fill
Of deep eternal rest, forgetful of all ill

Awake Me not; surly I long for Rest
I urge you all to honor this request 

The Will is signed; it’s time to rejoice
Do not be grieved; for it is my choice 

When it’s the time to give up my breath
Do Not awaken Me into ‘mechanical death’

The diseased heart will turn into blissful ice
The light I see beckoning Me does suffice 

To draw Me closer to that blessed place 
Where eternal joy will this pain replace 

Heavens welcomes me with loving arm
Free of this Pain and safe from harm

No blinding veil to cloud my tired eye
Or bloody fever to silence my anguished cry

Awake Me not; I’m soaring high
And with ‘Peace’, I await to ‘Die’… 

 

Max O'Reilly

No Pulse

I unravel her braids
Black as ashes
Her hands on my chest
Holding me accountable for my sins
Reliving the torment I inflicted
The pain, sharp as a stabbing knife
I can’t stop the ghosts’ suffering
I can’t alter destiny
Perplexed,
Was it a dream?
I saw heavens in her eyes
Hell in her tears
I brush away her tears
I try to say her name
I have forgotten how to talk
Her lips against mine
As her breast heaves
She twines her legs against mine
I forget to breathe
She undoes me
With her smile
I hear whispers in the darks
This is so real
The world unfreezes
My mind screams
The voice of time
Her body changes to shadow
Distracted with the lures of human world
I surrender to shadows, to death
The magic to quell my mind’s ghosts
Forget your heart, your dreams
Love can’t live in such a sick place
All is lost
Turned to ashes
Cindered shadows
Singed earth
I have ignited death’ wrath
Estranged from her
Her voice is winter
Filled with emptiness
Always in pain, alone
I am weightless, fearless
I am her light
I soar above the darkness
Swirling robes of nights
Wave of pain washes over me
Embers gleaming in my wounds
Find your song, Death says
Battle and blood
Pain and Rage
Unleash the flood
He stands as Statue as he accepts my pain
My wounds weep blood
A Star shaped scar on my heart grows
Swallowing the darkness
Swallowing the pain
All that remains
Is her dark hair
And her hand on my chest
That does not feel pulse

Maxwell O’Reilly