Do we all walk the same
trail of life,  no,
we know it is not
beautiful for all

there is a piece
kept hidden
maybe a deep pain of
the echo generation
somewhere lost
in innocent times

the dreamer drowns in
the dream, as nighttime
drifts through glass, unable to
burn in the soul,
yet it is sketched in the memory of
the heart, that for
reasons unknown, is sometimes
out of control

the devotion of words speak for
us to share with ghostly voices,
that bend in the morning breeze
is it a cycle of nature,
or a cycle of silence,

what becomes of
these two forces

when the last winds blow and
the chill of winter once again sets in,
do we stand at the end of the trail
looking back, only to go forth in
truth, or, does the power of
innocence prevail

behind the fallen night does your
silhouette stand against the wall,
or does it search endlessly
for the light

******

[This message has been edited by Greeneyes (edited 05-29-2001).]

Kathleen Blake

"When red-haired girls scamper like roses over the rain-green grass,
and the sun drips honey."
Laurie Lee

Janet Marie~

thank you for your wisdom....and for your reply...I take it to heart...


~
Irish Rose~

thanks so much....

~
ethome~

There are so many avenues of perception, one can not possibly answer all in a life time or so I feel....thanks so much for your comment....  


Lauren~


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[This message has been edited by Greeneyes (edited 05-29-2001).]

To the world, you may only be one person. But to one person, you may be the world.