Shadows on the Wall
If I chose to pass the time counting shadows on the wall,
A thousand years won’t be enough for me to count them all.
A teardrop caught in memory as it splashes on the ground.
Silence is the only legacy within the heartbeats sound.
The softness of the wind blowing quiet in my veins,
Are tangles in the weaving of life’s often fragile skein.
Each tear a tick of memory, a shadows thought that’s true,
Yet never does the wistfulness survive the thought of you.
A million years of searching far across the star wrought sky,
Times have slipped behind me with hope and faith decried.
Yet on the chase I have remained without a pause for sorrow,
Yet never with a surety of what will come tomorrow.
So wild of the heart, so like the storm forged tides.
Gentle is the being that within this shell resides,
Quiet was the breath that caught upon first sight of you,
Raging is the memory of belief that sight was true.
Freedom is the word that rises, dancing high upon the winds
Nothing wrong with hoping for this isolations end
Upon the skies of yesterday my scattered dreaming freed,
Within the void of is not there for all of want or need.
Banfiadh copyright 11/13