Thursday, January 5, 2012

The Invisible Lover

From amidst the raging storm of thoughts a cry shattering the sky…

“When wilt thou return from the dew-topped mountains?
From those high peaks that rub my imagination through.

Where oft doth thou disappear into a fragile trail of foot prints that mystically
from where I hear a heart’s lonely cry; from where the frantic cries of the reaper
submerge dies.
Is it true or is it just I?

What hath thou so wonderfully witnessed from a town so tinsel lies?
From where such ruthless condemnation forked displayed…

From where ever, tell me now, tell me how and tell me why?
When thou art gone for what must I still low lie?”

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