No good byes, simply leaving on silent feet, with a silent voice, no echo. It would be kinder to let me witness the slamming gate, splintered wood, splintered dreams lying broken on cold earth beneath a sunless sky. Wandering, forever wandering through endless days and longer nights. Is anyone there? No sound but for the beating of my own heart, no answer but for muffled sobs born of pain, confusion and loneliness. Reaching for shadows left behind, a sensation of touch, of smell, images with no substance, small comfort, no warmth.
A fragile seed continues to thrive. Not a weed, a fragrant rose, unintentionally sown, but tended with love. A bittersweet bloom. It’s nurtured with blood, watered by tears. My soul swells with tenderness as it’s petals unfold. If it’s beauty is not apparent to you, trample it not beneath your feet, but walk around this delicate blossom, allow it it’s breath of life. If again you feel some stirring within your breast, we’ll be waiting, always waiting in some secret garden high atop a grassy hill where the flowers dance, even after the gardener rests.
Step lightly, go slowly and test the path before you which you have chosen. You should fear not what you could not see. Find trust in the guiding star above you. Listen close, for the wind only whispers to your heart.
What scowl I see upon your face
I’ll take you to your pagan place
And let you reap your winter’s corn
And eat the seed that you do scorn
Behold the light, it has grown low
Scarcely just a cinder glow
Yet you still reach into the fire
Your belly bitter with your ire
Fan the flame you pompous fool
Your brow shall sweat for winter’s cool
And when your fire consumes your heart
Gentle winds shall too depart
Yearning barren ashy soul
Your harvest field shall reap no more
No winter corn to feed your girth
For you lost sight of all it’s worth
Your soul to dine on empty cold
No more to feast on ears of gold
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