Yet I Stride Yet I stride through dark, light-less days, striving forward toward forgotten ways. Wisdom searched for, seldom found, frozen clockwork, springs unwound. Chime-less wind chimes in the wind, guilty conscience, all have sinned. Boundless boundaries, chosen few, hope remembered, postponed anew. Knowledge known, memory's scar, forgotten wishes upon a star. Token pleasures, please no more. Unspoken treasure, words unsure. Slowly timed, time’s reflex slows. Mindless fruits, reflections show. Impassioned pleas pass unheard, Spoken softly, sad, silent word. I wonder, wander, endless roads, Who can hear unopened books, in the blindness, sadness looks. © 2013 ajwrites57 A Long ❤ ❤ ❤ Image by: Arne Nordmann (norro), via Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported If you enjoyed this poem, more of my work can be found here.
"Always be a poet, even in prose." ~ Charles Baudelaire