We speak but do not punctuate a
silence of all the miles between
and dust gathers on the paths
I’ve left behind.
Once there was a time I knew solace
before the noise
The chaos of hearts which
realised they were awake
to pain.
An enigma is there
to be understood
A puzzle to complete
with nothing at its end
but, the ending.
Glass Angels and brass cats
keep a watchful eye but
offer no vindication
to love bequeathed
and,
with an impetus it doesn’t own
a soul continues its
never-ending spiral of
life unfolding.
~*~
© Daydreamertoo *All rights Reserved
Shared with 3 Word Wednesday CCLXV11
Poets United, Pantry #75
