my soul in foreign lands, forgotten 1
The map unrolls, a skin of dust
where landmarks shift like whispers lost to a gust.
I trace a fracture, jagged, unfamiliar...
place where my phantom feet wandered, chillier
than memory allows. A tongue they spoke is lost...
A melody unheard of, at dearly paid cost
within the crumbling walls of an infernal keep...
A cracked, blackened mirror shows a face
though the eyes hold echoes of a storm!
The history etched strangely warm
borrowed grief, a second skin I wear
conceals scars, wounds I cannot bear.
A raven calls from a bleached white tree
a language older than time, the bones of me.
Its shadow stretches, long n out of place
across a sun-blackened, desolate place.
In this dreamscape, my essence fled.
A testament of words better unsaid, unread!
Foreign soil clings, stubborn, dark embrace
reflecting back lost a vacant face.
In stillness, a faint whisper sighs
you search mirrored eyes
meaning n memories...
A land you left behind
names you can't recall or hide...
A journey destined to fall...further inward
strangest sights reside as I…
Dissolve upon the burning tide.
Copyright © Poet Tellaferro | Year Posted 2025
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