October 21, 2007 § Leave a comment
The silence flies, like dark clouds over a moon,
Over the distance, lost in her gloom.
Time ambles on, fitfully unconscious,
Lost soul, harsh voice, mind so anxious.
Constant cycles, listless yet moving,
Hear sounds of the living coldly echoing,
The songs unsung, rhymes forgotten,
That hollow chatter rattling and rotten.
Questions unasked quietly dissolve
Only the angst persists in misty resolve
Is there purpose, meaning, love or care
In this life, the living or the space we share?
Why so blinded by our pain intense,
Even night becomes morning with no pretense.
The path shows itself when the eyes choose to see
In me hides the answer, the lock and the key.