Dreamy Downpour
The thunderous retorts from the storm outside, cascade of muffled noises echoing throughout the night. oddly it calms me so, allowing the ever-desired inward look into my own depths. Boisterous reports of the rain trying to get inside, serenade of ruffled thoughts mellowing my hollowed fright. gladly it balms me so, wallowing the never-tired inward remembrance of my own failures.
Dreams torn asunder, despair stronger than thunder. New goals are quick to fill the void, oh how I would love to avoid. Seams worn to the ground, never the wiser around. Success is but a word just out of reach, recess is naught a sword driven into the breach.
Will I ever find love, the dove of mankind? Would I never strive, the alcove of joy? Ah how wonderful it would ever-so be. If but once I could smile in ernest, savouring the moment at last.
The minute hand ticks on by, never missing a beat nor tick. By design and through supply, it serves to tell naught but time. The minute man walks on by, ever wishing a match would light. Near end and thorough exhaustion, his clothes smell of urine.
People come and go, as we do. The best thing to do is to let go and let it flow. The sweet nectar of destiny, given by fate and scrutiny. The rest think to do and follow, but let yours grow.
The nigh-impossible hills, nothing but doubts that he feels. Past scars and remnants of the wars past, abashed heirs and tenants of the choir rest. To sing once more, perhaps announce the sweet release of death's galore. Alas tis but a fleeting hummingbird, never to be caught but ever admired.
Will I ever find love, the dove of mankind? Would I never strive, the alcove of joy? Ah how wonderful it would ever-so be. If but once I could smile in ernest, savouring the moment at last.
Despite the pitter-patter of the storm, the sun would rise again in the morn as it does without scorn. And I will look up in the sky, wondering when I would finally fly. Respite from the chitter-chatter of the farm, the gun will fire again one day, caked with rust and clay. And I will look down at my failures, wondering when I wound up so high.
It wouldn't be because of my fated greatness, nor my ingenius talents. Unbelievable abilities, some undiscovered even yet. It couldn't be because of the hated meekness, nor my gregarious retorts. Unreliable abilities, some uncovered ever still.
Those with the most scars do the worst of harms. Driven by a force, the thought of justifying their long-lived farce. The directions they lack, I hope to finally crack. Their delicate shells, to expose the gems they've sheltered.
Will I ever find love, the dove of mankind? Would I never strive, the alcove of joy? Ah how wonderful it would ever-so be. If but once I could smile in ernest, savouring the moment at last.
Alas the rain stops, marking the end of their drops. The tears finally come, as the floodgates unilaterally find home. The downpour of emotional tears, never to be filled so full for years. Untill my dying moment I hope to believe. That I lived to relieve.
Written and published by Ephemeral_Dreams (c)
Please do not share/post/copy without author's express permission.
Thank you for reading guys. hope you enjoyed this one, i really tried to put..a message, per se, in it.
As usual, comments and criticism are welcome.
-Ephy