They tied you down with golden chains. A view of the sea was your only discourse. Trading freedom for false splendour; the cadence of the waves slowly ground to a still. With the constraint of your soul you reached out; breathed in the air rarefied by sacrifice. At a loss of words even the fallen stood in the face of defeat. Who are we to tread upon this hallowed ground where the shadows meet. Here’s today turns to tomorrow’s noon. Though neither one can be found upon the horizon; just muddled voice drowning in the dawn. A desperate spring seeks an eternal fall as winter’s sombre chill searches for summer’s embrace.
Till the ancient voice in your blood tells the memories they can rest; touch the skies with your embrace. Experience all the senses in their totality. Subtle vibrations can be hard to find so you will need to focus. Gather these memories and do lock them up, by the bye. Free them, for they are pure and cannot be lost no matter how far you might stray. Take a dip into the silences of the soul and realize you are never alone. Remember we are nothing until something takes us away; on this day even the sun will bow to the moon.
Casting dreams into seas, a burning man, takes no heed of the hands as they fall. Resigned to his fate, every second precious, from the first to last. When a passion burns so bright, they always end up washing upon the shore. Castaways no longer, shaking hands, puts the pride to shame, as he embraces them once more. Like a love so pure, he remembers a time, when they were both born with grace.
Flying in a sailboat made of reeds. Looking up, the world was still gently gazing back at me. Picked up a leaf as the wind backed off and started to row. Rudderless, the dream wandered as far as the imagination could see. Deeper now, into the depths of the soul. Happiness, a blissful rage, was the calm at the center of the storm. White knuckled, rocking side to side, hoping to witness the shore. However, seeing eye to eye, we both knew the story had been told. The only thing left was to live the Lie, like it had never been said.
One called peace, once called love; another’s war, carried all of us. Hope began, burning rain; similar expressions all the same. Within the dream, darkness grows; casting shadows, even Hope becomes old. Put to rest, the remains; upon hallowed ground, time patiently waits.
Do you think that expressions left unsaid remain imprinted memories of the fallen.
A singular voice echoing in our heads, sadly, the heart cannot follow.
Recollections vibrating a person to the core; a requiem for the soul no more.
Adrian Lobb is a writer living in Colorado.
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