deepundergroundpoetry.com

Gone All, but for Thought

I think of you,
Often and more,
Those remaining within the confines of this realm,
Having yet to cross over,
Grown distant, now fading,
Diaphanous memories dispersing,
Mist gathered in valleys,
Boiling away when found out by the sun.

I think of you,
Mind and memory gathering wool,
Weaving coats of such brilliant, vibrant colors,
Dreamscapes and battles,
Made heroic in such historic musings,
Souls oozing as blood from splintered, exposed bone,
Congealing upon charred, toxic footpaths,
Sighing in deeply the wretched stench of ashen disintegration.

I think of you,
Visions intricate and removed,
Forlorn and abandoned as kingdoms shimmering,
Dancing illusion twirling, skimming, expiring,
All that may have been,
But not for distance, deed, and time,
Locust mandibles the lot,
Consuming fancy and truth without regard.

I think of you,
A rare confession,
Whispered during vacuous, solemn moments,
Memories of warriors, of kings, of consorts, and confidants,
Musings of the failed, wandering demented,
Navigating loss and splendor of desolate landscape,
Upon which once stood monoliths, incomprehensible and magnificent,
From which now has fled primal brutality and devout wordsmith.

Gone all, but for thought.