Thursday, May 16, 2013

The Mirage

Walking past the desert of Time
I come across a broken wind-chime
With a wooden bird carved on top,
Its ruined limbs like broken twigs
Dangling loosely to come off.
I hold it close to my saddened chest,
I stare intently at its crumbling surface.
I swallow a tear,for
I refuse to besmear-
The shadows of civilization that lies ensconced
In the thin lines of its broken bones.
I myself am dressed in rags and tears
I ride no fancy stallion or mares.
I walk on two and fours and crawl
The path ahead is clouded for all.
When all of a sudden,my eyes behold
A miracle,a sight ne'er to be told.
The broken bird coos a tune
Bringing up the green in place of dune
The parched air is replaced by a rainbow
Oh how the lambs' jollity infect the meadow!
The moist rain sets me crying again
But I awake in the sand,feeling insane.
I trip,I stumble, and catch my breath
The wooden bird's silent my head inbred.

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