Saturday, August 15, 2015

The Arid Fields.

The wind no longer carries my name.
The howls and hoots are silent.
Dawn lay still, thick covered in bloodied snow.
An age has passed.


The whispering trees no longer spy.
No foul nor fear to speak of.
The holds and comforts of Entropy.
Like a lovers embrace.

The roads no longer bare witness.
For muddied boots now idle lay.
Time is a symptom, life the disease.
No breath is cure.

Death is a door.
I reach for with both hands.

1 comment:

  1. Evermore, she carries shards of his heart
    Bloodied hands flinching at each new cut
    His aches pressed against her fingertips
    As he lay resting in the hands of Entropy.

    Tissue swelling around her bones
    The oceans welling in her eyes
    Death belling in her ears
    Her silent aggression quelling the call of Hell.

    Perhaps she stood within the doorframe
    Guarding him with the love of God
    Fragments of his torture finding comfort in her arms
    His struggling grip on life nipping at her skirt.

    Though his thoughts linger towards darkness
    He knows God & God knows him
    However scarred & broken his body
    His spirit remains radiant.

    She knows the feeling of his absence
    Before Death even whispered his name
    So when it comes to knock at his door
    She will take one more look at me in the mirror..

    And I will answer.

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