An Ode to a Silent Communicator…

tomasz-ryger-cursed-valley-min

With the setting and rising of the moon and the sun,
Shuffling back and forth in the derelict zone,
Mired in temporary infatuation and still on the run,
Waiting idly for the overwhelming attachment of what we don’t own.

Caught between the manic, the desirous and the anticipatory,
Playing by the gamble of this celestial cyclicity,
Stupefied in a hesitant, yet revelatory anxiety of the reconciliatory,
Calling upon to perpetually chasing along this periodicity.

Woken up to a reality of the ill-spraying wind,
To the lives torn asunder, and left to adrift,
Into the great chasm and the abyss of the chagrined,
Against the score of a deep silence, and the lyrically thrift…

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