Shadows of the Lost
Beating against the wall,
a rapture tingles.
Cornerstone movement is deadening to the ears.
Whispering is quiet as buzzing is accepted,
for the lost is beyond
the walls of confinement.
The grave diggers sight has no sun
the shadows of the lost disappear in the breeze.
Rising with the solar and settling with the lunar
the shadows of the lost
mingle with the forest of new moon darkness.
Appearing as so to be eaten by the monster
the evening street lights dance to the beat of the clouds romance.
Shadows of the lost are seen as movement
they live in an era of time, no more.
Do they exist? they may barter, crossing over is much, much harder.
The shadows of the lost are like fleas on a clown.
The mimes are crawling in and all around.
Stop, writes the poor one for all is not lost.
The stairway is lit,the circle grows
its like a flowers last pedal.
They gather for guidance and follow the crooked finger of life.
the arms open and welcome all home.
No more Shadows of the lost
have been found.
Share This Poem