Forsaken

Misty breezes forming rapidly vexing eddies,
That turn about at will,
Not disclosing intentions.
Frenzied waves at tumult's shore,
Keeping company, withholding no silence;
Breaking hard to make their presence known.
At the gate of time and existence
There stands a watchful eye,
Lingering to grab and extort from all who pause.
Lapsed into worlds mistaken;
Forsaken;
Drowning in pestilence;
No one is secure.
A clasp once held tight,
Now seeming to fade and relinquish;
The gate closing, apprehensively.
The quiet touch of the friendly whisper;
The arduous posture taken to listen;
An infant's wealth of innocence, now denied.
Wretched sparks pounding,
As crimson delicacies on silver platters,
Make their way to untold fortunates.
Why to be incoherent,
When fortification by love is all that is desired;
To be exchanged, and not discouraged.
To culminate as such,
But ourselves would be the blame.
I'll ride your wind where it takes me,
Sequester not our hearts, once true.


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