Aspiringanonymous
October 3rd, 2010, 05:17 PM
The ode of winter - standing exposed and barren against the merciless storm.
If words could be spoken, what would they say?
That in the depths of desolation we have at last discovered
Too late - the manifestation of our unity.
Shattered we have become, unable to feel.
Only tears convey the years of innocence lost, dreams forsaken
Our souls were sold to our hearts, and our hearts unknowingly, to the cold earth.
Still we walked on, bearing the now empty illusions of yesterday.
When it was Spring - when the leaves, born anew,
Bore life with such confidence sufficient to last an eternity.
Those endless nights we would lie against the evergreen tree
The world and us, in synchroneity - alive.
And now, with impaired gazes and suffocating exhaustion
Contending the cold and darkness is love, long pronounced lost.
Search in desperation for our sanctuary, though a distant memory
For salvation - the courage and wisdom to carry on.
If words could be spoken, what would they say?
That in the depths of desolation we have at last discovered
Too late - the manifestation of our unity.
Shattered we have become, unable to feel.
Only tears convey the years of innocence lost, dreams forsaken
Our souls were sold to our hearts, and our hearts unknowingly, to the cold earth.
Still we walked on, bearing the now empty illusions of yesterday.
When it was Spring - when the leaves, born anew,
Bore life with such confidence sufficient to last an eternity.
Those endless nights we would lie against the evergreen tree
The world and us, in synchroneity - alive.
And now, with impaired gazes and suffocating exhaustion
Contending the cold and darkness is love, long pronounced lost.
Search in desperation for our sanctuary, though a distant memory
For salvation - the courage and wisdom to carry on.