Lost Silhouettes
#14 of Poetry
Little poem I wrote the other day. Nothin' too special.
Skies painted grey
Day after day
Steeped in sorrow
Never departing
Not until morrow;
A place
A space
A paradise
A thing of mystery
An escape from the melancholy
But where oh where has morrow flown to?
Departed from this place
Leaving not a trace
To sing to those with open ears and golden smiles
To serenade those with futures as bright as gemstones
But what of them?
What will become of the ones left behind;
Those still residing on the fringe of time?
What is to become of those undesired?
For this reason, I exist;
A Shepherd to the lost who wouldn't be missed;
A Guardian for those who seek shelter from the cold;
A Listener for their tales untold;
I lead the furtive shadows to the land only they may live upon
A place most sacred, almost forgotten
A paradise for those who seek the company they had never gotten;
The space of things betwixt
This is the place I bring the lost silhouettes
So they may finally know a peace
Apart from the pain they felt for so long before
A place where planes stretch to the horizon
And mountains touch the heavens;
Where rivers go on without end
And towering forests whisper tales of times long since passed;
Where the oceans are deeper than one's own imagination
And the comfort of unity is always by your side
This is my task;
To bring peace to vagabond shadows,
Those without a place in the world before
Knowing only the dread of being forgotten
And the fear of losing what had made them something more
Than just a pygmy in the eyes of the world
But now they may know that which they had not before
A life of countless joys, hearkening an age of yore
To be free of the binds that once kept them
Now unrestrained, forever more