Wednesday, December 06, 2006


The misty air,
You stare in disbelief,
The poisoned wine,
Or the yellowed leaf.

The final race,
You try to fight,
The prisoned life,
Or the unending night.

The stillness around,
You grasp your dreams,
The chilling peace,
Or the shadowy gleams.

The silent pain,
You force a smile,
The graying rainbow,
Or the last mile.

The weakening magic,
You wave the wands,
The losing battle,
Or the changing lands.

The laughing hyena,
You pull the trigger,
The missing shots,
Or the tired grave-digger.

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