Life gallantly being lived, love surrounding days of old.
Melancholy death lying sweetly in a bed of grass, awaiting the time it will be awakened to steal across evening tides, gathering withered petals – aged – in it’s cloak.
Standing at the furthest horizon, seeking lightened knowledge, joy and happiness in the ever darkening twilight of life.
Feeling warmly happy, contented, peaceful, quietly serene, facing the golden years just ahead, silently dancing within.
Along the way, meeting others, finding ways of doing things and getting along in their own trials and sorrows through life.Not always finding answers, yet always searching for some reprieve from their circumstances.
by the wind; sent hell-bent into depths of unreprieveableessence, lying on hard cold cement.All joy and happiness gone, their echoes lying lifeless in the noonday sun.
Exuding a lightening of anxiety, tripping over it’s exertive forces, trying to avoid any and all adversity it dares to bring.Burying an exchange of emotional trash, putting it beneath tons of dirt – it should never have been lifted off it.
Giving many inventions of meanings, newly thought ideas and being arbitrarily forged into abstracted forms of tomorrow’s literature.Forgetting memories of regrets, following self into mazes of unheard melodies, as they rise to occasions of fidelity and peacefulness.
I write in intensive longingfor tomorrow’s promises.
