When the white sky should be black and the yellow brings the night and when your love is locked in arms of love but your your fists are balled and your fingers are loose and your feet in shock, your heart cannot find your surrender. Your mind retreats to the crevices of your quandaries. The life you lead bleeds of tragic that spills into the veins you adore. There is a peace in the shadows where you will find a key. Journey just beyond the stones. In the clutter of life forgotten, dirt unnamed, a nod before the cliffs, something sure awaits you. Run your fingers along its rust and see its silver. Listen to the voice you know not the life youve lived. Moments are few. The wind is sharp and the silence is profuse. Feel your feet as they remember stable ground. Run through the plains back to where green grows but where your eyes could not see. Moments are few. Look for a secret through the ivy, in the shadows, where hell once screamed. Stand beneath the black where many have stood. Your black becomes your silver. Your silver, your key. Your key, the voice. The voice, your door. Beyond the door, revelation. A peace sets in as your fingers trace hope, a lock to which you have the key. Beyond the ivy, just beyond the gate, life awaits....
Posted on: Tue, 24 Jun 2014 02:59:05 +0000
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