Blessed Or The Damned? Of darker days and disenchantment, when fantasy last roamed free Among the world of mere mortals, living out their mortality. Upon towers capped by spires tall, intricate, ornate design, Curved upon arched, winged gargoyles, guardians of the night. Of churches crumbling to the dust, like skeletons left to decay, Their chapels capped by stone made cross, that somehow does remain. Where street lined filth is easily maneuvered, by turning away your eyes, And that includes those victim fallen, into the preying kind. The misty clouds that veil the eyes, and make the way more dense, Lighted by the halo of flames, lashing out at the last defense. Darkened ways that lead unto a more dangerous sort of path, Without the fragrant scent of life, to linger here but death. Disenchantment, it is known for no fairy tale might prevail, Along the streets of reality, where belief has all but failed, Each corridor a one way street, with flanking doors to side, Each unlocked, slightly ajar or pulled on and opened wide. Invitingly or otherwise, Ill not lay claim to know, But thus this pass leads the way to where we want to go. To fantasy, reality, your enchantments true desires, Or merely blackened by our life despite our untold fires. Burning brightly within our breasts, the need to just hold, A fantasy of great proportions, the one we only own. Does such fantasy really exist, enchantment linger in way, Or does the path lead but the blind further to go astray? I question now the firm grasp mind, which reality stands aground, No quakes of tumbled excitement, to shatter the mass abound. But to firmly stand embedded, to root upon this land, Disenchantment for reality, blessed or the damned -Angel (not sure it exactly fits, but.. I did enjoy writing it and thought to share, -angellro)