Silent Reverence

Dark clouds rise high, gathering overhead a throng of gods sit in their silent, mysteries. A black funeral pyre… Darkly shedding tears, rainfalls cold, drifts down alone divinities flock to this eternal passing like raven at black masses They sit in silent judgment of what was and will be. A lone figure stands on a hill under a willow tree, silhouetted in severe slate of evening, tears fall silently passing as discarded memories! Of what was and will be Echoes linger like fading imagery of youth in memory washed away history… The silhouettes of lives out loud a gentle sigh a tear falls from shadows as everything dies. Histories sovereign winds wash all my misery, mysteries and mercies away and only the gathering clouds like divinities can understand the silence…the reverence! Of tears… As a figure stands there, in hush reverence for what was and will be!