Tag Archives: face

Mask

This face on the ground
With debris all around,
If it had a mouth
What would it say?
If eyes, what would it see today?
The stealer of identity
A silencer of secrecy.
It becomes anyone and anything,
As swiftly as the past takes wing,
It can be everyone and no one.
And nothing and all blood.
There behind its simple facade,
It laughs, and pretends to be God.

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On Being Apart

Good morning my love today
When I awoke and saw not your face
There was emptiness. The morning light did say
“You shall not be here, long, without, in this place.”
But I could hardly believe the light that spoke
For every moment away from you deprives
My soul.
Though my time away, my soul bespoke,
It was not prepared, yet shall survive.
How many dawns apart are we?
How many?
Not soon enough, we’ll see.

The Colors Out of Shadow

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Colors out of shadow reminded him of her face,
Which time in its indifferent boredom has tried to erase.
Her eyes stared at him, or did they look away?
There is no penance for this regret that I would be able to pay.
She left behind shadows and took with her his heart.
That was the last thing with which he would depart.
And just like that, there he stood with nothing left to lose.
His foolish pride and selfishness were the cause he did conclude.
Now every night before sleeping, the shadows meet his gaze.
There he hopes to see the colors that remind him of her face.

Fades Like the Rest

The wandering of soul
When found in want of a home.
Who knows what this one did
To find the face so dimly hid.
Out of the shadows we soon won’t see,
Where the soul has ought to be.
And one more passing by a moment
What was here, the soul has shown it.
Its actions louder than words could express,
It falls into darkness, and fades like the rest.

Cold End

The coming dawn, I know it to be cold.
From a distance: voices, faces, in mist,
Are illusions lurking, or so I’m told.
In their discourse, they wildly insist
That if they fervently wish to be real,
It is so. Without permission they lease,
Manafest strange feelings for me to feel,
These things that cause my worries to increase.
A cold path waits for me after waking.
The morning sun abhors my taking warmth,
And I find no heat from it worth taking.
They, in the mist, wish for me to go forth.
Nothing before me but my bitter end:
A garden of sorrow, which I must tend.

Seasons

Wind from another time and place.
Blowing in, revealing a different face.
One face to another that face did say:
Among the autumn leaves, come to play.
A sunset in fall before the winter snow.
One last embrace before the fading of hearts glow.
Far beyond springtime and those carefree days past,
Even summer had mourned and into shadows cast,
Any semblance, any thought that bore
Resemblance to a memory that one could not ignore.
Now here in autumn, waiting for the snow,
Praying winter, its face, it won’t forget to show.

Without

Let me show you where the path ends,
Where bodys break and bones bend.
Where minds unfurl
And tragedies swirl,
Where this path comes to an end.
At the end a monstrous beast
Its bite to be feared the least.
Without legs with which to chase
Without eyes, or jaws, or teeth,
Lies in wait for an awful feast.
Without a face it cannot see,
Without a face it might be me.
With broken body and bent up bones,
Not a soul in sight but my own,
There’s none left to blame.
I, without a beast, or so I think,
Remain here on the brink.
An edge, a place I’ll stay and wait
For the bones to heal and the beast make
A quick escape, my fear to take.
Into a fearless sea I sink.
The beast will come.
The beast in me.
The beast without eyes I cannot see.
The path has ended I search for one,
Not made for me but made for some.
And without eyes who’s to say,
We didn’t drive the beast away.
Yesterday’s gone, tomorrow never comes.
At least that is what the faceless say.