Sitting there all by herself, alone in a world so choked with people. Left to the cold, the dust and the moon, she can only ask herself "where is everyone?"
Not the aroma, nor the meal. Not the bed,nor the room. Not the room, nor the home. So many passers by, not one acquaintance. Alot of brothers,yet no friends. She heaves a sigh of relief or pain? Indifferently asks "where is everyone?"
The souls she played with @ dusk, the spirits that picked the crusts, the shadows, the silhouette, the echo, the distant cry. All now like a mirage. Was it all a dream. She screams "where is everyone?"
See! the twin musketers "she smiles" in separates lanes, shadowed by separate winds, like eagles in a convention yet soaring defined paths. The dust is from moving objects stationed on two sticks, yes things are moving but its like a mirage"where is everyone?"
She now understands....everyone's gone with the cloud.the darker the clouds, the fewer the sounds, the dimmer the lights, the less the company. The longer the journey, the less the co passengers. The smaller the ingredients, the less the partakers. The larger the harvest, the less the labourers. Hmmm so she can answer her question "where is everyone?"
Everyone has gone as everyone goes. Looking in the gardens for the treasure, none wants dirt, no hands in the mud, no sweat on the brow, no skin pain. If only they knew what they sought. Treasures in earthen vessels...."she smiles".
This is not the time nor season to be scared, it gets clearer now, now is the time to hold on and not lose sight. She can atleast see the musketeers and then she sees a silent swift sway of an angel - an angel in the dark. . . Reaching out his hand not grasping yet stretched and still stretching... Just the feel makes her smile.
She says Thanks, everyone is gone but someone is there. If you haven't travelled her way, this will just be a tale. A tale well told over a cup of ale, though stale makes a rail for a frail girl.
Good everyone's gone, they were all stale...
Not the aroma, nor the meal. Not the bed,nor the room. Not the room, nor the home. So many passers by, not one acquaintance. Alot of brothers,yet no friends. She heaves a sigh of relief or pain? Indifferently asks "where is everyone?"
The souls she played with @ dusk, the spirits that picked the crusts, the shadows, the silhouette, the echo, the distant cry. All now like a mirage. Was it all a dream. She screams "where is everyone?"
See! the twin musketers "she smiles" in separates lanes, shadowed by separate winds, like eagles in a convention yet soaring defined paths. The dust is from moving objects stationed on two sticks, yes things are moving but its like a mirage"where is everyone?"
She now understands....everyone's gone with the cloud.the darker the clouds, the fewer the sounds, the dimmer the lights, the less the company. The longer the journey, the less the co passengers. The smaller the ingredients, the less the partakers. The larger the harvest, the less the labourers. Hmmm so she can answer her question "where is everyone?"
Everyone has gone as everyone goes. Looking in the gardens for the treasure, none wants dirt, no hands in the mud, no sweat on the brow, no skin pain. If only they knew what they sought. Treasures in earthen vessels...."she smiles".
This is not the time nor season to be scared, it gets clearer now, now is the time to hold on and not lose sight. She can atleast see the musketeers and then she sees a silent swift sway of an angel - an angel in the dark. . . Reaching out his hand not grasping yet stretched and still stretching... Just the feel makes her smile.
She says Thanks, everyone is gone but someone is there. If you haven't travelled her way, this will just be a tale. A tale well told over a cup of ale, though stale makes a rail for a frail girl.
Good everyone's gone, they were all stale...
