The needs of a story

We could walk down a lane,
And care not where it goes.
But the need of a story
Is to be told.
Be it in solitude,
Be it in love,
A path may be lonely
The end may be sore.
Some ways be of love,
Some ends feats of lore.
For them that walk,
The ends are unknown
But in paths we take
Is beauty engraved in stone.

REstrained

Let there be a soft bed,
Where I can stare at the sky,
And forgo all who judge,
And fool all, who look in the eye.
Them that I care are strangers,
And strangers do still show care,
This be no place for a heart,
No place for thoughts laid bare.
Let there be a closed room,
Where none can meet my stare,
None to come, none to go,
None to lie about care.
Let my thoughts be a monologue,
And days diminish into nothing,
For stars are a haunt,
The dark is more soothing.
In desires awake and gone,
Of words spoken and feigned,
Truth is this heart stands alone,
Of labours lost and gained.
Let the paths be as dark,
For the darkness I am used,
Let none shine a light no more,
For I cannot stand another ruse.
An excuse has been always,
To think that there was better,
For once let it lie,
Let the silence be my fetter.

Take me

Take me to my sunset,
Orange hues beautiful.
To those sunlit isles,
Where I be alone with me.

Take me to my nemesis,
A smile there always is,
To an end life lies,
Where I be content with me.

Take me to my gods,
They can never talk,
To those days lost,
Where I have love with me.

Take me to my love,
Where I can never be,
To a destiny born,
Where I am alone with me.