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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required As I sit underneath my fabled willow Alone and wrought within an empty earth The sky is blackened before all I see The heavens open, its tears reach for me Cooing, crooning upon my wretched birth Washing clean the illusions life does bestow. The illusion of being a man, free Of holding hands, togetherness and love Life is no more real than a sleepless dream Behold the thunder! It covers my screams From the branches baring witness, a dove Recording the naught of Man above the sea. Loneliness slips farther into the night My walk on this path leads me to the grave Yet the flowers do not bloom before me The sky withers in hope, once more to be My heartbeat is weakened, lest it beat brave Abandon encroaches upon my light. The beauty of my willow disperses There was never shelter here from my life And the grains of time filter through the glass The world carried upon the broken ass These illusions of Mankind welcome strife Wiltering my poetical verses. Words no longer pliable to meaning Truth is the existence of infusion What death reaches out from the grave and lives? Is this what my treacherous breathing gives? Mother, are you yet one more illusion, Or just a simplicity of my dreaming? My willow sits barren, no life beheld Existence now merely an intrusion Clouds fall like rocks, scattering without sound Crushing what will I believe to have found I spiral through degrading illusion As death becomes meaning where life has failed. ~ By: Darren J McMurray March 5, 2011
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