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Biyernes, Mayo 9, 2014

A Loss for Words

I'm at a loss for words again.
I've torn again my thought-splattered canvas
And left my paint to dry.
I've beaten my brush into a plowshare,
And fed my thoughts to the earth.
I've lost sight of caramel-coated skies
And crimson-buttered roses
Or the hymns of silent butterflies.
I've let it break--no more sweetly singing skylarks
to be minstrel of moaning, misted morns
I've quenched the fire, and ceased the roam
To take the wearied path back home.

I'm at a loss for words again.
I've shunned the call of the lyre
And stopped not to muse by the daylight's bier
To share its fire-born tears and burning drear
Or to sound the iron curtains of the nightly frost.
I'll just walk the battered road, dead, forgot, and lost.

I'm at a loss for words again.
I'm picking up the embers of an dream forgot
And from time's scars again wells blood--
And I'm blind again with open eyes
Drowned in a sea of tears where roses float
And then I'm taken back, my lonesome way out to find
And leave the sighs of a shattered heart behind.