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!
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