About Me

April 6, 2011

Vertical Abyss

Silent oceans draw back the water
and those little men left on the shore
by the estranged mind.
Lonely birds fly towards a distant land
And take the ashes of my past.
To resurrect the division of shadows.
An old man set on a road less travelled
With redemption and grief hung on his shoulder
And a hope to break the limbo he has attained
Destined to fade away
For the bigger cause
The little things I've forgot
In the pretence of attaining oneness
Or maybe for a touch of faith.
With an acceptance of the obsequious
My face is redrawn by them masters.
Often.
I the obedient slave.
I the faceless man.

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