Saturated in a pool of historic words,
None are my own.
The heart beat goes on,
The rhythm of my silence.
It goes on...
Drowning in what is theirs,
While desperately grasping for what is mine.
Oh soul, you feel so much so greatly,
Yet it is still theirs that offers definition.
I dreamed a dream
My words were solid.
Like the trees in Autumn,
When all else dies,
And are carried in the fate of the wind.
When Life was still beautiful,
It's full color making it's last appearance,
I could not shine.
I was camouflaged by the forces of something greater.
When the diligence of silence was overcome,
And their glory dried up,
I stood strong.
I stood still.
When their truths made their last cries in the wind,
I stood silent.
When the new season came,
I welcomed the sun,
And I expanded my branches.
There in desolate surroundings,
I grew into the life form
I was intended to be.
No comments:
Post a Comment