. The hours etch by
. a wholesome loneliness
. the peace eternal.
. A majesty stifled metropolis
. left bitter in the blank sky. i l
. The moon’s reflected light w r i
. – too dim to strike the dust s n across blackened dirt-
. g
. leaves me reminiscing.
. Is this all that there is left in life?
. To carry on a seemingly meaningless task
. With no one even acknowledging your existence?
.
.
. I am one with the wind.
. Surrounded by serene beauty, but invisible to the world.
.
.
.
.
. One day the calm will come and I will cease to exist.