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christian-l-bixlerPoems
I am standing here, staring into a dim horizon while the wind sighs past, eternal and uncaring, bearing with it the tattered remnants of poems, legion in their number, forgotten and left to fade away and be taken by the wind. With every step I make, across this cold and grey place, words are crushed beneath my feet, their meanings failing, as they rise and take their places, within that wind of empty promises, of broken loves and hollow sighs. I lift my gaze, up from the dust of my creation, rising slowly and with the grace of gentle death. I see the horizon there, see it glowing unconcernedly with the light of a thousand thousand thoughts, and swaying gently with the bubbling waves of happy joy, swaying with their laughter, with their tears and quiet sorrows. We stand here forgotten, the old and faded words and I, watching Witt an envy dulled by time and the ever present wind. We are watching, they and I, as we too, at last are faded away, eroded by the constant wind, and the hollow sighs of forgotten words as they rise to join that lonely wind, bleak with the dying dust of a thousand thousand words, and their sorrows, as they pass.
0
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 10:07 AM UTC
That Lonely Wind
I am standing here, staring into a dim horizon while the wind sighs past, eternal and uncaring, bearing with it the tattered remnants of poems, legion in their number, forgotten and left to fade away and be taken by the wind. With every step I make, across this cold and grey place, words are crushed beneath my feet, their meanings failing, as they rise and take their places, within that wind of empty promises, of broken loves and hollow sighs. I lift my gaze, up from the dust of my creation, rising slowly and with the grace of gentle death. I see the horizon there, see it glowing unconcernedly with the light of a thousand thousand thoughts, and swaying gently with the bubbling waves of happy joy, swaying with their laughter, with their tears and quiet sorrows. We stand here forgotten, the old and faded words and I, watching Witt an envy dulled by time and the ever present wind. We are watching, they and I, as we too, at last are faded away, eroded by the constant wind, and the hollow sighs of forgotten words as they rise to join that lonely wind, bleak with the dying dust of a thousand thousand words, and their sorrows, as they pass.
I feel old, somehow, weathered and grey as that hopeless land that I have spoken of. I hope that I too shall not fade away and be forgotten. I hope. And I dream. And I wait.
#words#lonely#sadness#death#time#hopeless#grief#forgotten#wind#envy
christian-l-bixler
Written by
christian-l-bixler
26/M
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 10:07 AM UTC
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