Forever laced within its might,
A tragic end for you to fight,
Where no one wins and None to lose,
The rope around my neck a hose.
I hang and await the order,
To send me even further.
Down a lonely rocky road,
Where hoards of silver and yellow golden
Wings will soar me far.
Further then a place I’ve been or ever seen.
And horizons in a landscape of half slept dreams.
Only to awake the same.
Slowly dying by the clock of time.
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Author:
RSM (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: March 12th, 2025 10:07
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 16
Offline)
Comments1
Images pour though this poem as if it were a dream. The line (And horizons in a landscape of half slept dreams.) is marvelous One metaphor on the heels of another keep the reader on his toes. A lovely write.
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