Saturday, November 1, 2008

The winds are blowing,
in the same direction.
The storm is again raging,
the fury of the past was buried,
but this time the levees,
were broken.

Silence was the hiding,
engulfing sorrow and pain.
It looked all too familiar,
like a long lost memory.

In that moment,
the end is wanted.
But edges save you.

A fall would give,
freedom to misery,
and flight to solace.

Parched and wounded,
illusions soon gather
the storm passes by
from dusk to dawn.

Then two angles walk in
song and dance follows
And all your left with is
these words of sorrow.

'Great Stories, Come out of Great tragedies'