Storms will beat with indignation
Faulty installations of the heart
Fragile thoughts with soot foundations
Laid to rest in pieces sharp.
Broken, bruised and hollowed out
Cavernous through the winding depths
Echoes of deeds and doubts
Will choke the waning breaths
And drown us with the streams
From our rising chests
And rob us of fainting dreams
And even fainter rest.
Till slowly drifts away
Our folly and our pride
Our will and motivation
To awake
To try
To trust a trail of trickling rivers
Of anecdotes and whim
With bringing back our long lost hope
And make to sing again.
For what are fickle drops of light
In the proverbial well of shame
That only seems illumination
For that we seek to blame?
Our fleeing footprints marching out
With ever fading tread
Away from that we once had loved
But now we only dread.
Moonlit Poetry 