Devoid

Monday, September 01, 2003:

Sorrow creeps in, like the shadows of a dark night
The moon gleams down, projecting the ghastly arms of the trees with their many fingers onto the ground
Walking alone, the silence looms above, threatening its own death, to let loose a wolf's chilling howl
A cold wind blows, penetrating the cracks and crevices of the mind, numbing its thoughts with its shrill abandonment
Feet slither across the ground, and the moon shadows contourn to their shape
The night conspires against carelessness, and turns it into sorrow
Crushing all spirits with its heavy blows, it feels no remorse

The trees dance in the cold wind, as it begins to grow
The flames begin t dance now too, and the shadows dance alone as the embers drift out of view
Sorrow becomes pain, pain becomes death, and the wolf howls his last cry
The dark night mourns now, the dance is over, the flames have gone
The wind only grows colder, and more shrill
No more shadows are cast, they are all dead

Chris // 9/01/2003

______________________

Comments: Post a Comment