Sunday, November 13, 2016

Shell Shock


No breeze of the sunrise.
Look at the bigger trees.
Dark green, so huge and wise,
But a god who sends breeze
Won't make those leaves rustle,
For all things don't bustle.
 
Silence pierces the ears,
Of one who's numb from noise
In all these many years
Of arrows, crying voice,
Sound of hooves on the ground;
Up there, armies abound.
 
Don't you long for the sea,
The sunrise you can see?
And don't you long to flee?
 
Push harder, and it snaps.
It all ends in silence.
It crawls in and it wraps,
No sins, no violence,
No more musical art,
Not even in my own heart.
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