there's just something about the stillness of these stones that sings me to tears— today is august 5, 2026... today is august 5, 2026...
so screams the years of layers of dust encrusting the petrified earth; lonely, rid of her supple footsteps to graze and wipe it clean.
like the stagnant roots that seem to have given up creeping to grasp for any foot to cling to or touch i can only stay so still... knowing oh so well everything we touch turns only to soil.
i could act myself a fool greeting barren outcroppings only to the reply of my own voice hoping that the once green grass would once again bloom to the bliss of my welcome— but i'd rather settle for silence...
instead of crackling leaves; stepping, all i heard were my shoes against pavements, failing to muffle the cries from underneath my feet.
*someday, somehow i will make it so these lands will know soft rains once more—
something i wrote before my life just started shutting down~~ partially inspired by he short story 'there will come soft rains' by ray bradbury (hence the august 5, 2026 thing) and mostly just from he rush of feelings i had imagining how my now abandoned childhood home (where the ashes of my mom, dad, grandpa, and grandma are) back in the province looks like when i would eventually return there...
this poem means a lot more now after visiting there last month for the first time in two years since the pandemic began and yeah ._.
The tedious graveyard shift comes around again, The ghosts and ghouls of my past clocking in. We meet each other at the silver gate; We greet each other with the same stare each night. I wonder if some will stay overtime with me under this moon, Or if we can led our own paths once more come morning.
the old truck I'm guessing from the 60's now being devoured by trees at the edge of this farm melting into the hundreds of acres a remnant I took the back roads this time on my latest sanity saving trip to the Outer Banks Where I'll pick through the fragmented shells looking for the few that made the journey in one piece like the scavenged souls we meet I took some pictures where the lighthouse peeks over the dunes and spotted something in photo after photo an orb appears in each and changes position with every click of the camera perhaps a soul victim of a ship gone down from one century or another stepped out from his grave the Atlantic to enjoy a stroll along the beach
Outer Banks...it's shores known as the graveyard of the Atlantic