Watching the blind soul wander
This barren wasteland of forgotten
Dreams,
The mirrors in the desolate trees
Reveal that what he cannot see:
The firmament bathed in crimson,
The earth swathed in ash.
With eyes stapled shut, and
A heart sewn tight, the Blind One
Continues his aimless journey,
Ever forgetting his life-wish.
When memories are but dust
Scattered to the four winds,
The essence but sand
In the hands of the Grim--
The Blind One shall be the guide
As he wanders this barren wasteland
Of forgotten dreams.
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I love this one!!
ReplyDeleteHere's my latest poem (actually a song):
ReplyDeletehttp://earnestlycontending.com/maranatha/?p=4680/
You paint quite the vivid picture in each of your writings as I understand is the idea of writing in the first place, great stuff keep it up
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