Saturday, February 21, 2009

The Harvest ©©

I stand in the shadows
Cold rain pours down on me
Awakening me from my illusion with its cold fingers
The chill of the night is what warms my soul

Down dark alleys I look
Living shadows huddled with fear
Fear that they won’t be seen
Fear that they will live in the shadows forever

The reaper’s sickle is the comfort many seek
To be harvested
To sow their souls in a new existence somewhere else
Some where far from here

The sewers drown with the tears from the darkest places
By dark shadows, lost souls who live in these places
Forgotten from the minds of the seeing blind
The hearing deaf, their god and mother

Out in the unseen
In the dark recesses of existence
Live those who only know how to feel
Nothing

They have no hope
They have no will
Only a desire, a wanting, a wish
To touch only one more dream before they are seen

An open hand
A kind face, a smile
An honest man
One more time before the spring

Walker

2 comments:

Brosreview said...

"The reaper’s sickle is the comfort many seek
To be harvested
To sow their souls in a new existence somewhere else
Some where far from here

The sewers drown with the tears from the darkest places
By dark shadows, lost souls who live in these places
Forgotten from the minds of the seeing blind
The hearing deaf, their god and mother"

Pretty dark mate!!! Loved it!!!

Romany Angel said...

This made me feel quite desolate for the forgotten people.