Sounds and Sounds

Your silence killed my passion

and all the the warmth this heart once

held for you and you alone. 

The fleeting voice of logic,

then deposed by dreams of romance

had found its place upon the throne-- 

until you spoke again.

So now I sit in shambles;

airs of loss, love and legend paint

the skies neath the lovers without 

reason. But you smile while I submit

to the death without Respite-- to

the mercy of your vibrant voice and

cries of earthly solace.

For the sound of life --

of faded grace, hope, and cold--

I stay bound to the noise that calls 

beasts to the cliffs; I stand on

the precipice now, and the void whispers:

"Welcome, tired wanderer.

This is where your heart belongs."

The End

0 comments about this poem Feed