By Patrick M. Tracy
I have stood
at the edge of the bright plain
looking down
across the good, cleared land
and again
I have shown those fields my back
the gloom
of the wood falling upon me
the dappled sun and shattered sky
the low chorus of trees
the stillness
of the lonely path before me
and every step
breaks faith with something
leaving all promises undone
all ties unbound
but these
are the wages and cost of the journey
of the beautiful silence
of the broken.
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Across Inconstant Breath
Would that this skin this frail armor atop the husk of slow departure - Would that it held against the teeth of night's maw a...
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Prove this with your science, Hercules, you with your trials and madness, soaked in the blood of the vanquished. Prove this with your scien...
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Would that this skin this frail armor atop the husk of slow departure - Would that it held against the teeth of night's maw a...
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These sweet oblivions turn sour soon enough All forevers going far outside the colored lines All grasping hopes doomed to slip ...
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