It begins
Again with its
Infamous whiff of woe
Caressing the nostrils
Leaking through the eyes
Gravitating the heaving heart
Towards the abyss of despair
Souls begin their lingering
Memories hover and anticipate
Their re-enactment
As his soul splinters in
Silences slumber
While tears dry in their
Flight away from him
He
Is no longer
The reflection in
The mirror of truth
He will give in to all perplexing realities
He will sit back to back with shadows
He will wait for redemption’s call...
That may never come...
1 comment:
Rachel, thanks for that. It's really dark and intriguing... which was the intention of the illustration too.
Thanks again.
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