Photo Source: http://www.markforrester.co.za
Gnawing at deathly masses
With talons sharp and sleek
Scavengers sing of the end
as the dead are put to sleep
The silent night plays its tune-
haunting elegies on the harp
Memoirs of life decay to dust
as the trees chime in the dark
Photo Source – http://commons.wikimedia.org
Brownian motion
of fluttering colored specks
A dust brown courtyard
Photo Source: http://nature.desktopnexus.com/wallpaper/791737/
The Sun had gone down and the evening looked tired. The fields that passed in a blur, covered in dust-colored drapes, stared expectantly at the sky, and the sky looked back, empathetic, but helpless.
The sky had nothing left to offer except hollow promises and a sense of guilt, that reflected in its attempt to escape behind the veil of parched clouds. It wanted to do more, be more; be what it had once promised to be, the savior the angel, the protector. But it had failed, and now it was left with no choice, but to face its own betrayal, everyday, for eternity.
The curse, of broken promise.
Defeated, the sky, closed its eyes, turned its back and walked away as the night walked in to take over the shift.
Mute Expressions 