Thursday, July 2, 2009

The 5 to 6

Aftermath are hard to get by
Gone the days swallow flew, the winds howl and scented grasses
Here where death hollows
There where people come
Brewed and grew into strangers walking down paths, ignoring one another

Forgetting past, moving present
The winds howl with unscented grasses
Here I stand, looking into a light
There I looked, into a brightness that's dark
Illuminated and shone into milestones of infinite tragedies

Yet, moments come
Scented grasses, holes uncovered
There you seek
Here you hide
Gone again the days swallow flew, wind and scent.
Peace again, at last.

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