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And as they say, grief is only able to possess. |
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The rotting body clad in ancient clothes |
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is left behind with a wave of the hand. |
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I have gone away. The bed is cold and empty. |
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Trees bend their boughs toward the earth. |
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And nighttime birds float as black faces. |
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It was the hand reaching out through the mirror. |
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Unknown and scarred by life... |
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the luring eyes, you had never seen. |
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You have nothing more to find. |
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You have nothing more to loose. |
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The cold season drifts over the land. |
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They huddle in the brown corners. |
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Some would settle for less. |
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The castles were all empty, asleep. |
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Long awaiting their king. |
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Beckoning round the bend. |
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Amidst the forest one would hear that I had been there. |
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Draped within a fate I could not change, |
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and always welcoming Winter's EPILOGUE. |
