Tuesday, June 19, 2007

The crescent moon hangs low tonight. Out the window, a beautiful sight overtures into a melancholic silence. A musical hum rings the ear, replays of wretched words taunt. Stars twinkle, pin pricks in the untouchable caliginosity. Nights are now longer; grounded and here to stay. Winds have departed; stillness to the beat of hidden wonder to many eyes. A flower, a life... A ravaged soul attempts another try. Imprisonment behind iron bars of white, withering in the twilight of hope. Death by the garden of autumn grey seeks a moment to rise.

Puddles of red in glimmers of silver, blossoms of ashen renounced a once had passion. Desire beseeched to no avail, misery no longer manifests its existence. A whirlpool of tears spins endlessly, refuge seems nowhere near. Fate that made two into one now drifts apart, suspicions of a conspiracy on destiny’s part.

Eyes of a forsaken heart flood a watery grave in celestial sphere. Rain subsides and a drought follows after. Fire catches on, smouldering memories to ashes. Sombre and lonely, a hypnotic slumber settles in. With the first drop of morning dew, strength returns like an angel of miracle overshadowing. Wings fluttering faintly in the distance becomes a sweet melodious tune that lullabies one to rest.

I shall awake stronger. Ready to face the strongest tide, to fight the ugliest of beasts, but yet a timid self within pulls back the chains of insanity. A line unable to cross, here I am back at the beginning. Will there ever be escapism from emptiness?

Love,
Brenda.
6/19/2007 02:35:00 AM