The Broken Ride - Revisited

Revised on 8 February 2006.

On a broken ride across the sky,
Along the edge of time we fall.
Gently, forever; like the snow, softly
threatening. Slightly white.
And each flake a lie; everlasting,
The never-ending pain; the blood
shed: Drop by drop.
Off the tongue, it is the rain,
Ever beating, beating down,
A menacing advance. Layer;
Upon layer, fold upon fold.
Consuming itself. A tale yet untold.
The shapeless mould: is darkness.
And inside.
Unlock the door; break the heart.
Cracked, questions filter out. Through
formless holes: Too big yet too small ¬–
Never satisfying.
From under, over and below. Observe.
Empty is full; filled within.
Half full becomes half empty, when you
pour. With open eyes. Watch.
In the mirror,
Jaded.
Look, on the walls, pictures.
Rusting yellow. Red-brown and gold.
Tarnished beauty?
See: Beyond the window, perfect
view. Scenery.
Unrecognizable. Unsure?
Nose pressed against the glass.
Missing, longing, waiting…hoping.
On a broken ride; far, so far,
Away from home. Alone.
Thinking, trying to understand.
(c) Sylphide