Tag Archives: path

Light Dies Alone

This is the day that light dies alone.
So far away, yet close to home.
For home in nothing resides a shadow,
Of the path that leads to it. What can I do?
In wonder I gaze at stars above.
In wonder I look around.
The sun with dead light beats down.
A day of dead light is hardly day at all but time.
In times passing behind nothing, before it, void.
Light dies alone in past tense, and in its future bed.
It’s only alive in this moment, hope with it in our head.
I will not gaze behind me to find it true: all what I’ve said.
Daylight dies alone and I, now can finally see,
That I am not the one that light calls company.

Beside Roses

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A call from wind and windings within
And tangled bellows show,
What was prized above all else
The mirrored echos towed.
All through the mire of the night
And dawn awaiting there,
No stops for me, my love, mustn’t tarry
Beside the roses in still cold air.
The morning sun may catch my back and bathe me in its light,
My face on and forward, forgetting previous nights.
Several days have found me searching,
Wandering through the fog and waters.
Every path is just: ‘one more turn’
Every turn, a dead end I’ve followed.
Until the morning I awake to the bitter taste of real.
You’re gone.
And the ocean of oblivion I long to pull you from,
In vain to bargain with echos your memory fading becomes.
I will wake one day no longer, and before that day comes,
It will be as I remember.
Beside the roses in the sun.

New Light To Elsewhere


I see a sign to nowhere,
A door that was once there.
An empty room, gray.
Abandoned light: day.
Something becomes nothing,
Nothing is everything.
Nowhere to go, no worries.
Searching for a path long buried.
On this gray path a new one to nowhere,
From this forsaken dawn, new light to elsewhere.

One More Sunset

Another sunrise, another day
Another chance to stay and say,
One more noon passes by
One more sunset to catch her eye.
She sees the road, the narrow path beyond,
It is just the same as any other dawn.
She wakes from sleep, though no rest found.
Most nights are spent dreaming
Of fears, of paralyzing past.
Memories through the years abound,
But not so many she would like to last.
The sun has set after a day of reviewing these,
She wonders if tonight is the night that she will find peace.

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.

The Path She Strides

The path she takes tends to lean
Towards one side more than the other it seems.
Down the dim-lit path she strides,
They are few but loyal in whom she confides.
Where does she go? Can you see? Does it matter?
They that cross her, she calls each black cat hers.
She knows dawn will come of its own accord,
And how she gets there is as important as her choice of room and board.

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.