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The throatless songs parade, silent to those who stand deaf. The endless harmony mingling in the hapless fugue of another nell pinion me to this state. I stand on the face of my soul, whose infinite shadows stand as archaic battlements long ago abandoned by lives long spent, and so I watch the wheel of time turn. I linger under the shining pyre of silver that is the moon, the countless stars but embers soaring from the mass of silver, I wait for nothing for there is nothing that will come. I am but flesh, I am but mass, I am but temporary, I am only alone.

COMMENTS

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phantomsgrief
01:55 Jan 31 2011

what a beautiful poem my dear and i hope when you get the time and feel the need you will write more poems

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