Monthly Archives: April 2014

Pictures of the Dead

Frozen like statues captured mid-smile
Between breaths and heartbeats
The moment passing
From slow to stopped

Silent reminder
The stilled pulse of memory
Aching wound that lingers
Between the past and the present

Eyes that never change expression
Refusing to admit the glimmer is gone
The world moves on, past cars on a street
Parked outside an empty house


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Though sun shines upon that dwelling
The darkest place is yet unseen
Its tale deserves one last telling
From memory that’s failed to glean
The meaning of what dwells in there
What waits within the dreary walls
With hunger that it cannot bear
For steps within abandoned halls

No lock fit through the rusting hasp
The hinges groaned in deference
The door did not resist my grasp
My path was lost from that day hence
I climbed and sought the upper floor
Beckoned on down a rambling hall
That ended in an open door
I could not stop held in that thrall

I entered though I could not see
In darkness that hung like a shroud
The horror that awaited me
And fearful in its grasp I cowed
Its eyes were pooled with visions bleak
That showed the dread within my soul
Like mirrors that I did not seek
That held me under their control

It tempted me with empty peace
If I would humanity trade
For promise of a sweet release
A being in my image made
A replica of deadened hands
That held me there against my will
Not governed by the hourglass sands
A curse that I would not fulfill

Upon release I fled that place
And sought again the noonday sun
I felt not warmth upon my face
But chill that I could not outrun
Close my eyes but yet I see
The pall that was hung over me
Within my mind will always be
A hinting of that entropy

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Let Silence Pass

Let silence pass without concern
That ceaseless noise is needed
From solitude is drawn much peace
And worry goes unheeded

Fret not that we are incomplete
Without constant connection
Time away does not diminish
The view of our direction

Sun chases moon, night chases day
Predator, yet without prey
Beg to feel we have not waited
Wishing for what can’t be sated

Be it a thought or single word
Alive in the air, not a screen
It’s brevity to be treasured
That brief glimpses go not unseen

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