Flapping of the wings.
Flapping of the wings.
A day has passed, violently,
A new day arrives, quietly,
And now on each face is seen a smile,
Which was once a frown in the night.
That moment when—
A night, serene, giddy, is unknown,
And the depths of frailty have long mourned,
The depths of the unknown have cried out for too long,
And the cries for eternal peace have gone by,
And now the final breath is taken by that person,
Thousand tears are falling,
But a single smile transcends throughout the night—
Caresses my cheek, soft, floats,
Stars shine glamour.
Ivory, green and glimmering,
White like the milky moon,
On a gray land,
Spears daunting come,
Pierce the land deep,
And tear the white ivory,
Rage building, yet helpless.
O, why kill for something beautiful,
Not needed to survive.
O, why kill those beasts that roam,
The savannas with ivory as their tusks?
A cold, distant land,
A planet wondrous, unknown,
Nothing more than mist and fog,
In the minds of the travellers, unseen.
The night was distant, the moon’s silver waves spilled,
A wandered stood by a hut, carving words onto a scroll.
The time had ended,
The sea had sung the final words,
The cocoon’s voice no longer roamed,
As the bell transcended, throughout, its final toll.
The air that had once stirred,
With emotions, advices, heartfelt voices,
Had now gone cold,
From luminous to as black as coal.
Now, although a future lied waiting,
The past was going, out of grasp, control,
No words could describe the feeling,
Which outgrew panicking.
Now, although the time was drawing to a close,
The remnants still came back rushing,
Feeling that outstretched hand,
That guided the wayward wanderer onto the path.
The wanderer stood listening to the empty cocoon,
Filled with voices now gone,
Seeing the flashbacks,
Play by play.
Now, although a word he could not write,
To express a feeling, he could not express,
To show that cherished were these the wanderer’s time,
To say that that light feeling was eradicating.
He ignored the cries to give up on the thing,
And wrote he did as a token of appreciation.
Trail of stories, poems, observations and more!
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I cannot remember the books I've read any more than the meals I have eaten; even so, they have made me.
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~Run Your Own Life~
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Dream. Believe. Achieve
a state of being pleasantly lost in one's thoughts; a daydream.