In a moment of emptiness
She contemplated a burly wind
Not something others could imagine
But it was still there, the concept is ethereal
Like worshiping a god, a figment, fancy, fabrication
Another grave mark around the corner, below the words
Yet there is pleasure in a stand still, open hearts,
Lacerated heads, above the image is superfluous and grand,

Sweet nectar the smiles of children dancing in the rain
There might be more to it than most people could ever understand,
Deep feeling, ancestral leanings have come to meet the band
Still there is absence in the rhythm, a notification never to occur
But sometimes it happens without space or action it floats above a blue sky
In a rainbow flying so gently with a broken wing a downcast reminder, a forsaken childless bird but looks can be shattered in images yet to be learned, universal random
Parts, missing pieces, loosely formed estranged, outcast, never living abandoned alone
There is much to have had striking a semblance a means to perceive the outline fictitious walls that trace the memory of a wooden house complete with shiny clapboards wild shackles from a spring for there are only so many thoughts that can create a shape lacking resonance or a Road to conquer fate because the eyebrows may embellish the orbit that seeks a land of its own, empty epithets have broken the pelars, ghosts and spirits live so far away rambling in snow, casting many doubts which was once thought to be unknown.

Source by Gerald Marchewka

Leave a Reply