Peace
Its a strange and solemn peace.
The kinda peace found after wartime, except it’s a war you lost. Turmoil still short behind but there is relief to be found in the end.
The fighting is over. All hostilities ground to a halt.
Life can move on.
From the ashes of what once was, decimated and desolate,
The new arise.
A time of possibility, but not yet hope.
A faint glimmer in the rubble. Could be a coin, could be a piece of broken glass or metal. You either got a weeks bread or a cut finger.
I wander on, sack on my shoulder, cigarette in my mouth and nary a sigh on my breath nor tear on my cheek.
Ive no more tears to shed. No more sighs to expel.
The peace is firm yet hollow,
It seems these days I’ll take the empty peace to a chaotic existence.
Wander on, lonesome seeker.
Perhaps the horizon holds what I seek, perhaps it holds only despair.
But still I wander on because I’ll never know til I get there.
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