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I walk into the Graveyard of Dreams Of shattered hearts and those throttled screams, Away from where the sunlight gleams; Where the dead things lie. And as I pass the long centuries My soul remembers the deadened breeze, This body that’s on this life’s lease, Lets out a shrill cry. She reads the memoirs of ancient pain The same souls that have left the same stain, The suns that set and moons that wane, And she asks me why. And I walk towards the ready grave The tombstone marked with a moon and wave, All that I had I always gave, But dead things will die. I lift him up and bury my love With one last look at heaven above, All that I had was not enough, Though, at least I try. And with one last glance I walk away Although my body bids me to stay, My soul’s seen too many a day, And She breathes a sigh. For She knows True Love will not leave weak Those with the courage and will to seek, Those with the strength to climb Its peak, And See with Its eye. And I know that the Graveyard of Dreams Is vital to stitch my endless seams, It provides my supporting beams; Let the dead things die.
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May 29, 2018
May 29, 2018 at 12:30 PM UTC
Dead Things
I walk into the Graveyard of Dreams Of shattered hearts and those throttled screams, Away from where the sunlight gleams; Where the dead things lie. And as I pass the long centuries My soul remembers the deadened breeze, This body that’s on this life’s lease, Lets out a shrill cry. She reads the memoirs of ancient pain The same souls that have left the same stain, The suns that set and moons that wane, And she asks me why. And I walk towards the ready grave The tombstone marked with a moon and wave, All that I had I always gave, But dead things will die. I lift him up and bury my love With one last look at heaven above, All that I had was not enough, Though, at least I try. And with one last glance I walk away Although my body bids me to stay, My soul’s seen too many a day, And She breathes a sigh. For She knows True Love will not leave weak Those with the courage and will to seek, Those with the strength to climb Its peak, And See with Its eye. And I know that the Graveyard of Dreams Is vital to stitch my endless seams, It provides my supporting beams; Let the dead things die.
the-vagabard
Written by
28/F/Goa, India
May 29, 2018
May 29, 2018 at 12:30 PM UTC
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