Mark Norton Poet Ballad

The Silence of Time

We are banished to the limits of our moral servitude,
Held deep in the valleys of its existence, trapped in the silence of time;
And dimly shone the starlight, hidden in its own reflection  
Doomed to the darkness of night

Forgotten is a memory past, its meaning lost to time,
Where the good of one is measured by the worth of that solitude; 
Words remain in the value of there meaning, when its truth is gone astray,                 
And with age the stars still glimmer, atop a ghostly shadow   

Quiet sounds may inspire our wisdom, like those of a creaking floor,
Truth is held to the design of its structure, and not by the knowledge therein;
Through time the memories pass, and we are left with what’s to be,
And those inspired by their own ideas have vanished long ago

Journey on to that memory gone, past our life’s beliefs,
Bound not to the question of death, but what is held in its endless thought;
For where resides the spirit, returning nevermore,    
In a place of dark emotion, beneath the silence of time

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