It is a matter of time only,
until the wind arises,
and relentlessly, the moments fall asleep.
These lonely hours pass by slowly,
bestow me with radiant fear,
and far more courageously... i weep!
The music shows me my place,
As weary as I am, drifting into space.
The lighten candles have thinned the air.
visions of my Eden come to me
slightly vague, out of vogue, yet fare...
Dancing among the leaves of autumn,
in my head, the spectrum...
Swaying to the sounds of time,
To a memory;
that is mother to all wisdom...
To the scents of freedom,
and to the plunders of prime!
O, how folly my ventures were...
Through the valleys of death.
O, how many passed winters there...
That have denied me mine own breath!
Good night, and good riddance...
May I please sleep!
Shalt ye give me leave now,
to my downwards so steep?!
Edited on August 20th, 2016. Originally part of the "Diaries of an Immigrant Soul", Pt.20, by A.r. Bazian, published on Writerscafe.org in 2012.