(A collaboration with Conrad Garcia)
Indistinct in the twilight,
The veiled bride moon.
Tales of rabid white lies
Whisper howls on the freezing desert plain;
Skies stripped of their stars, arousing handicapped sighs
That sometimes touch the infinity of sands
And wail through storms that peril no man
For no man was here—
Patiently the vultures drool
While much stranger things contemplate their kills.
Do the winds even know they can make or break the Earth;
Their tenacious movements so restless, refined in plains of aridity?
And oh… what else do they carry
Aside from a mass of emptiness
To proliferate that of the cold, retreating night?
There’s nothing to break so –
Some slacks come around the way of the scorpion
Far from what throbs and aches for their venom;
The dessert eagle glares, casting
On a detached carapace, the scowl of a rising flame.
And still, no man is here.
Spirits wail from where…
Valleys of disenchantment tell stories of fleeting passersby
Thorned and torn by the old worlds
Craven to the unfamiliar, spiteful to the new.
This entry was posted on 12.12.2011 by Xyldrae. It was filed under Abstract, Alienating Thoughts, Epic, False Things, Meaning, Nature, Solitude, The Perils of Living and was tagged with depth of life, Emptiness, haunting thoughts, Metaphor Overload, solitude, uncertainty.