Thursday, November 08, 2007

In my mind

Shadows in the wind, a falling grace
Wind chimes, the rattle of an old chain
Sounds of a past I’m trying to forget
The scent of fresh rain and brown mud
A common dialect of pain experienced
The destitute have nowhere to go
I too have no place called my home
Look up to the sky for a divine sign
All I see are the black clouds of rain
Color is a constant in bitter dullness
And a shade of white can erase fate
Without passion we would lose all
And yet the torture of love is real
Beware of the flower that doesn’t bloom
She would kill till she can kill no more
What can we pray for in solitude?
Take away from me this day, this age
It’s like flying through a lost dream
Let the dying lay in utmost peace
For who’re we to disturb their dreams
What do I make of myself today?
For the future is an unsolved riddle
And yesterday seems so far away..

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