As I walk this deserted path
a tunnel of empty hollow,my eyes whisk awayand run North towards the Heavens.My mind wanders to the original score of swallowing silence.All but for the orphanage of gravel that cries out beneath my deliberate strides.Small abandoned pieces, splintered long ago.Broken in their own right,a quarry of screams, crunching under my hardened sole.How fitting.So rootless is my walkas the wind implores and whispers its final warning.Still, I remain unsurewhether confounded under the guard of shelter,or having never to see another morning.The forecast speaks aloud the “Fujita Scale†of me.Willingly I lay down my stonesand shiver from the exhale of my inner storm, still unseen.With everything I bare, feeling the unsavory airof Gale’s breath upon my own neck,I’m scarred and unclean.And I’m so scared.
darylg44
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Gale's Breath
CATEGORY
life
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COMMENTS
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tretre says: I'm sharing this....I hope you dont mind.. Beautiful work..I really like this. Keep that pen movin Darylg! |
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darylg44 says: Thanks so much tretre. That means a lot. Thanks for reading |
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The Immortal Wize says: This is such a quiet piece I was waiting for somthing to jump out but you kept it mellow. truly touching |
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darylg44 says: thanks Wize. Thanks for reading my man |
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2b2b2 says: Quiet Storm Indeed....Well Crafted Share....thank you...Namaste |
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darylg44 says: thanks 2b... |
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Only because that’s what it was easiest to be You see, I was built to be a 45 But I’ve spun at 33 1/3 rpm’s Afraid to give them anything, other than what they knew me to be
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Gale's BreathAs I walk this deserted path a tunnel of empty hollow,my eyes whisk awayand run North towards the Heavens.My mind wanders to the original score of swallowing silence.All but for the orphanage of gravel that cries out beneath my deliberate strides.Small abandoned pieces, splintered long ago.Broken in their own right,a quarry of screams, crunching under my hardened sole.How fitting.So rootless is my walkas the wind implores and whispers its final warning.Still, I remain unsurewhether confounded under the guard of shelter,or having never to see another morning.The forecast speaks aloud the “Fujita Scale†of me.Willingly I lay down my stonesand shiver from the exhale of my inner storm, still unseen.With everything I bare, feeling the unsavory airof Gale’s breath upon my own neck,I’m scarred and unclean.And Iâ€... |
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