Sunrise her hair blowing in the breeze around her face, and the sun; God's chest of jewels; gleaming, as the horizon turned pink, the air cooler; the day dying, as the shadowy tones of dusk fade into the twinkling twilight, and the air moves as if it were alive, bombarding the quiet dark, with secrets that remain ageless, and in the night life is reborn, among the shallow remnants of whispering voices, telling me to go ahead and do this, to look to the remaining pieces of my heart, to try to regain a bit of sanity, but nothing is left and I remain motionless, as midnight teeters past and twilight fades to dawn, and the sounds once again regain their jubilance, and as always the winds ruffles her ageless face, and her hair becomes the shroud where she prays...... by jw farmer ©2000
Reason for writing:
inspiration is funny, it comes and goes, as does the muse,
there was no particular inspiration to make me write this,
other then the fact that it sounded sad, and happy all
at the same time.
Birth sign: Aquarius
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