The Vision

Posted on by the_dorian_poe

I tightly clasp my eyes, flicking on the switch

To the vision, floating to and from the foreground

Of my, chaotic mind, always spinning and steam pot whistling,

Until, the vision slows it down, and softly whispers,

A most welcoming inertia to the constant battling,

So vivid and apparent, gracing the turbulent shore,

Steeping in the darkness, as the seconds hesitate to tick,

An escape, that saves me from the monsters roaming

Freely throughout, disturbing, the already crumbling wall,

But the vision, helps steady the suspended wire rope

And guides me across, with warmth, on the nape of my neck,

Easy, as the commotion dwindles and hushes,

My whole world, has found solace, as the vision lays beside

And I drift, content in its cloud, forgetting it all,

A suspension of Nightmares.

Toychest

Posted on by the_dorian_poe

Childhood locked in a chest, stored in the dusk of the attic

And buried, amongst the years, forgetting the toychest

And it’s contents, that had been there, throughout his youth,

All that directly links, to moments, that kept him awake,

Deep scraping along his bedroom, ripping at the wallpaper,

Frightened in the dark, as the shadows play on the ceiling

Cast, by his perched toys, on his shelves that dropped to the floor,

The plastic rattling, as they slowly drag against the rug,

That even now, the white noise of his fan, drowns the memories

As he wrestles, with the chest, fighting the current,

As the chest, thumping closer and closer, shrieks,

Jarring out from this terror, in a panic, a cold sweat,

A sullen voice on the phone, conveying disheartening news

A trail, leading him home, after one, taking him into the distance,

A vacant house, of stale comfort and soulless posessions,

Nothing stirring within, touring his familiar, unrecognizable halls,

Then preparing to rest, in his childhood bed,

A distracted presence, occupying, his swimming head

Hearing that thumping outside of his usual nightmare,

Mimicking, his own heartbeat, echoing off the stripped walls,

He peers out into the dread, gasping, trying to regulate his breath

As he sees, the paint, melting away, up towards the attic door,

The beating getting louder as he nears, hypnotized

By those steady, groaning deep thumps, grabbing his attention,

Standing below its access, releasing the hatch

As he climbs, through the dense flowing dust,

Finding the thumping had ceased, not even a creak

Of the floorboards as he nears, the lowlit backend,

Finding his locked away fears, pounding at the silence,

The latch withers in his hand, letting loose, all he entombed,

In the darkness, the pounding that shook the shelves

Which knocked over his toys, and the scratching, at his walls,

Enters his chest, grips his speeding beating heart

And whispers to him, “Nevermore”.

Keeper of the Light

Posted on by the_dorian_poe

I discovered, what was said to have never existed,

Something so elusive, I’m struggling to keep my grasp

As I feel it slipping, melting, into the enveloping drain,

Trying not to frighten, or dismantle what is already trembling

In my presence, and in my huddled keep,

Shielding it, from the darkness brewing in the clouds,

I am a keeper of this light, but more of an admirer

For its brilliance, resonates in uncharted depths,

So I cradle the shine, warming the icy hallows

While the stature of fury grows, aiming to dull her lustre,

It stretches it’s reach, eclipsing, the vast horizon

And I’m staring, into the chasm of its widening gullet

That aims to swallow her, forcing me to abandon my post,

How can I, secure her luminescence, being sought after

By the suppressive shadow, of the rolling grumble,

So I set her free, and conceal her in the absence

As the dark chases distractions, I keep a shred of her, within.

Pleading with the Demon

Posted on by the_dorian_poe
Artist unknown

The rushing surge of guilt, hinders my feeble mind

As I stare, at my trembling, blood soaked hand,

I awoke from my paralysis, to find a disheartening scene

Splattered across the floor, viscious and animalistic,

Vague in my recollection, yet sufficient, to plague contriteness

As I drown, in the vivid horror of my wrongdoings,

How I tortured and mutilated, being amongst the wicked,

Vanquish my enemies, and allow me to proceed

Down, the shrouded path, far away from this stain,

An eternal echo, that calls to me, chilling my disposition,

It haunts my every move, leading me to a grave I’ve myself dug,

A corruption of my soul, within these bone walls

That I can no longer be surrounded by, its tightening grasp,

With every detail of that night, furiously engraved

Into itself, staring at me, an unforgiving surrounding,

Release these enemies from my crowded back

With more approaching my front door, weakened, by the ghost

That remembers, why I’ve fallen to my knees in this trench,

Trying to dodge paralyzing thoughts, anchored to the crown,

Living in this tangent, scratching at the complacent walls

Hoping, for a break of light to peer through the dense viscosity,

I can’t be here anymore, stranded in my own torment

Following my own deceit, deeper, tucked into the corner

Crouching, from an advancing, floating ominous veil,

Before me, the Demon materializes, fearing his words,

“I find it laughable, that you believe, your disguised penance

Will release you from your guilt, and even this cell,

For its you, who has attracted these enemies to your doorstep,

No demon was the puppeteer, during these heinous sins,

How many lives did you crumple, and stuff, into a box,

Rot in this cage, before you descend to relentlessly agony.”

The demon slowly vanished, leaving the man alone,

He looked around at the cold abyss, cradled his sorrow

And endured crushing solitary, fearing, what lies after his passing.

Below

Posted on by the_dorian_poe
Artist unknown

What lies beneath the murky surface, is kept hidden

For their, and our protection, as its terrifying myth

Is a warning, for the curious ones near the engulfing swamp

As the dwelling beast, grumbles, in the thick ripples it creates,

Like an enticement, to those prying, around its banks,

Hypnotized, by the sway of the shrubs,  growing off the creature

Pervading the thick moss, entangled with the moist stench,

Bringing the snooping migrant, in closer, to the stirring

In the overturning mire, that begins to slowly swell

And separates, unveiling the monster, to the petrified wanderer,

As it devours him whole, beneath the black nebulous,

A story repeated, to a young and an inquisitive soul,

A little girl, unafraid of the fable, and deeply absorbed

In its lore, that has placed her entire town, into panic,

Angry debates, deciding how vanquish the terror below

Has only created further hysteria, as they place blockades,

Shrouding, the wetlands from ever being traversed,

Until the little girl, succumbed to her heightened intrigue,

She packs her fishing rod and bait, hoping to lure

Out this supposed ferocious and rapacious beast,

She discovers a nestled path, enveloped by outstretched webbing,

Not even her fear of those arachnids, could halt her odyssey,

As she bit down, and charged through the silken blankets,

Feeling the stretch of its cling, as she pushed through,

Swinging her fishing rod, to take some of the brunt

As she kept mowing past the dense vegetation,

Finally, feeling the squish, under her blind steps,

Peeling off the collected entanglement, she found the swamp,

So serene, lavishly blanketed by the green flora,

She was amazed, and excited to ease her bewilderment,

For how can such a place, belong to such a dark tale,

She stepped onto a solid plank, and dropped her baited hook,

As the beast, puzzled, by this sudden appearance,

Cautiously reached out, pinching the worm, as it vanishes

When the girl lifts the rod, checking for any nibbles, nothing,

Plopped back in, as the beast works faster, removing the worm

And ingesting it, the easiest meal it has ever tasted,

As the little girl inspects the bare hook, and drops another feast,

Only this time, the insatiable creature, was caught

As the hook, deeply plunged into its finger,

As the massive beast erupted, out of the dusky water,

Knocking the little girl back, into a swallowing shrub,

Peering out from inside, her eyes fully widened

At the sight, of the monster, from all the stories she heard,

It was much larger than she imagined, yet still, unafraid,

She slowly crept out, and into the streaming light

Carefully disclosing herself, to the panting, angry mosnter,

They both marveled at each other, the beast of legend,

And how the little girl, was blind to the beast’s sonar,

She inched closer, as the beast held his hooked finger,

A throbbing pain, sending sharp shivers throughout,

The little girl cautiously reached out, for the injured finger

Which was snatched back, with an earthquaking roar,

Composed, she climbed the beast and removed the hook,

She jumped back down, her fishing rod in hand, waved farewell,

As the grateful beast, showed her a trail empty of web traps,

They shared one last glimpse, before she vanished,

The girl safely, without webbing, returned home,

She wasn’t eaten, nor torn to shreds by the beast’s razor claws,

Although, there were glimmers of the told fable

In the still moments, when an unexpected fear, crept,

Only to be ignored and shook off, finding a calm gentleness,

For the next day, she ventured back to the tranquil pond

Finding the beast, slightly poking its sight from its domicile,

From then on, they’d spend hours, that led into a soft twilight,

Only to return the next day, growing an unbreakable bond,

Back, in the hollow halls of her den, the light bowed

As her father, watched, her room in the maddening vacancy,

Sirens blaring in his head, anticipating the jarring knock

To inform him, of his only daughters found, mutilated body,

The horror stricken tale, encased his troubled mind,

As the girl’s father, vexed by her constant disappearance,

Followed her trail, and discovered, her glaring disobedience

By the swamp, where he urged, for her distance,

He then saw deeper, at his daughter, resting upon the monster,

His whole body started to pulsate, as he reached for his blade

Nervously, removing it from its sheath, steadying his attack,

The beast felt a surge, shoving the girl to the ground

And finding a charging man, battling out from the shrubs

Heading straight for the beast, with his blade, as his spear,

As the beast pounded the ground, causing the man to stumble

Loosing his blade, lifted, by the nightmarish claws,

The little girl pleaded with the beast, asking to let go of her father,

But the monster was out, and could not be reached

As it sunk a claw, into the man’s thumping chest,

An eerie stillness, washed over the girl, seeing her father drop,

While the perplexed beast, hid in his murky dwelling

That has been corrupted, for the little girl, falling into darkness

Perched by her faded father, finding his blade nestled in the marsh,

Concealing it, as she approached the sullen beast

Who looked to console her, feeling an awakening twinge

Coming from the girl, who suddenly plunged her father’s blade

Deep, into the sunken chest, putting the legend to sleep

As the stunned beast, bogged down, into it’s swampy grave.

The Long Wait

Posted on by the_dorian_poe
Artwork by Eddie Mendoza

She stands upon the overgrown platform, peering into the distance,

Seeing nothing, but the green swallow, of the abandoned city,

Breaking through the concrete, plant life has consumed her world,

The death, of this modern civilization, leaving her stranded,

Waiting, for what seems like a never-ending delay

To the transport, that would ferry her through the devastation,

But the evergreen wasteland has crippled, her passage,

A perpetual static pervades the stillness, yielding solace

In the maddening vacancy of this terminal, her cage

And the stagnant wind that brushes her hair across her squint,

Straining, to hear the world, outside this shrouded silence,

But she hears nothing, but the rustling in the bush

As a wondering cat, springs out, and rests by her stance,

“You know, that train isn’t coming, might as well find better lodging.”

Surprised by the cat’s speech, and that she understood,

“How long have I been here that you’re now speaking?”

“Just be thankful for my voice, and the conversation,

Don’t worry, about what can’t disrupt this simple pattern

Of you, perched upon this shallow plateau, stuck in a glimpse,

The longer you stay here, the more your roots will stretch

Down into the concrete, losing yourself to the hysteria.”

The girl, drops to the ground, cradling her heavy head

As the cat nears closer, nudging at her hands, to rise,

“If I disembark here, I might have already lost.”

“Fear of losing, chains us to where we can no longer grow,

And that, is where you settled, running while standing.”

She looks away, towards the sheltered and empty pathway

With no movement, no slowly halting approach to the wait,

“I’ve seen the rust spread, and choke, the low glimmer

Which has guarded me here, afraid to let me leave

Digging its thorns, all around, stifling any and all hope.”

“Yet, you still posess the fight, keeping you afloat,

For why else, would you conjure me to unlock the chains? “

The cat, and the vines that kept her from leaving, evaporate,

She begins a different path, away from the overgrowth,

Heading home, hoping that it too, has not been overtaken.

Dreamscape

Posted on by the_dorian_poe

There we are, in the dream that seems to have no finale,

And I’m perfectly fine with it, to breathe in those moments

Everlasting in my mind when I lay to rest, replaying

Her words, that had made me weak, wrapped in her arms,

All I have to do, is tightly close my eyes, and I’ve returned

To her arms, lying intertwined, hearing her heartbeat

Following mines along the trail of that blissful night,

Never to repeat, until I slip back into the dreamscape,

I’m better, there in the soft darkness, feeling her warmth,

But then, details become vague, she starts to fade

And I endlessly chase after moments, that don’t want to be remembered,

For it pains me, not feeling her pressed to my chest

And the dreams, only hold enough, to crush the broken pieces,

Where can I run, when even my escape, is left to haunt,

A tarnished smile, as I beg for a spotless memory

In order to sleep soundly, and not have to be reminded of what is lost,

No matter how far I trek, or how deep into a dream I vanish,

She’s somehow there, in a glimpse, back into the dream.

Hunters in the Snow

Posted on by the_dorian_poe
Art by Srefan Koidl

Its been snowing, for several days now, a bitter cold

And white fleece, blankets this small secluded town,

Its a, “nothing ever happens here”, kind of outland,

Until the clouds, encapsulates the grounded and petrified,

Eerily quiet, as the entire population, lives as introverts,

Even when their neighbor, pleas for his life, in the frozen night,

Does anyone dare, intervene, in the howling of the blizzard,

No one saw them come, as nature gave them their disguise

To sneak around this wasteland, picking their prey,

They rise in the fall, blending in with the white veil,

But now, during the winter solstice, brings this whiteout

And these fiendish predators, sniffing, for their next kill

That satisfies the wintertide, and the furious storm, subsides,

Some hunts, range a fortnight, others could stretch a week

Drowning the town, in a bitter frost plastered nightmare,

Every home, chained, boarded up, and frightfully abandoned,

But it won’t stray these persistent hunters from their prey

That have absconded, for with the pull of the snow, they’ve returned

To their home, unprepared for the horror lurking inside,

Some stay, armed to battle those, who blend into the shroud,

Closing in, on this year’s chase, the hunters are prepared to feast

On an old man, sitting, peering at the door, with a fire roaring

Behind him, casting a tall silhouette upon the still barrier,

Upon his lap, lies his rifle, recalling his grueling training

A young soldier in a cloud of smoke, snaking out from the barrel,

But it wasn’t until, the cloud expanded, in the devastation,

Growing within that fog, was a shadow of his former,

Lost to the avalanche, within him, carrying pieces of innocence

Off the battlefield, that he himself, had mercilessly fractured,

A stream of hatred, poured out, through the rifle, his extension,

The chaos inside, reflected, by his misguided assassinations,

Tearing down lives, that had no haze, no distortion,

A sudden thud, upon his roof, shoving him back into his armchair,

His grip, tight around the rifle, and his heart hammering his chest,

He gets up, peeks through the crack in the rattl boards,

Without touching the door, it unlocks, and slowly creeks open

Letting in an enraged gust, letting in true fear, for the first time,

His hands never wavered, he never heard, his rifle tremor,

He slowly steps out onto his stoop, gazes into the subtle drape,

The hunters, with sleek maneuver, encircled their quarry,

Before he could react, they towered over the fearful

And all the old soldier could do, was drop to his feeble knees,

Asked for forgiveness, for the lives he ripped apart,

He bowed his head to the snow, felt a tear stream down his cheek

And saw the drop, and the contrast of red amongst the white,

He shut his eyes, and balance, was violently restored.

Wanderer in the Storm

Posted on by the_dorian_poe
Art by Stefan Koidl

In the heavy shade of a room, a boy, stares at the rain

Streaming down the pane of his window, as the world continues

To revolve, steady, along the constant corrosive monotonous course,

As the boy, holding on tightly, to tangible memories

That have no place here anymore, wisp away, into darkness,

But he fights the disintegration, to no avail, lost in his barren mind,

Only gusting winds, through the channels of now empty memories,

Unfortunately, the brief years, hasn’t given the boy it’s dexterity,

Suddenly, a sharp chill, enters the room, disturbing the black

And there, between the drops of rain, encrusted on the glass

Is a reflection, a dark figure in the puddle, beyond the reach of his home,

Only, the boy cannot find the source of this ominous reflection,

No one there, standing, on the soaked and empty walkway,

But the tall and slim dark figure, manifested in the puddle,

The boy couldn’t trust his own eyes, it was beyond the bounds of reality,

Yet there it was, no eyes, but can feel the figure was starring

And the boy, couldn’t remove his sight, for the figure, felt familiar,

Which was why the boy, was led out from his sorrows

And standing, only inches, from this cold haunting appearance,

As the figure gently greets the boy, telling him not to be afraid,

While all the boy could do, was gaze, into the collected water,

It tells the boy, that it is not death, nor life, but a nomad,

A wanderer, that has been torn away, from being palpable

And then finding itself, residing within a hurdling chaos,

Then the boy, with overbearing hesitation, stuttering

Through, asks, whether the figure was a vengeful ghost,

The dark figure softly replies, that it wasn’t certain,

For it is not its purpose, there was anguish it wished to settle

Peeking through this storm, following its dismantled will,

It needed the boy, to ease the rumble, rattling the cage,

And all it wanted, was for the boy, to be its witness

As it laid out, its hand, asking the boy for his trust,

Looking into the shallow reflection, the boy complied

And gripped the air, finding a solid object in the absence,

They trailed across the gray, to a still and silent bridge,

They get to the middle, as the figure releases the boys hand

And suddenly materializes, while standing, on the edge,

“Here we are, this is where we accept our final bow.”

A stinging chill, swells, in the boys pounding chest,

“I needed you to know, where the flood rushed over,

I stood here, peering, into my own reflection in the deep

Until I rushed down, trapped in the murky speculum,

It’s where we end, our decent, and you’re the beginning,

I told you before, of our torment, it festers and paralyzed

Our hopeful existence, to this end, and now I drift in regret,

For how can we, walk upon the petals in a dreamscape

When blinding sorrow and affliction, hang like heavy drapes,

I’m trapped here, surrounded by the misery of the broken,

So why not try to help, so that the grim wind, settles,

Even just for a glimpse, of the sun, peaking through the fog,

There was light worth basking in, I ignored its brilliance

As I suffocated, in the dreary cave, until it was lost,

We can’t allow our demise, to repeat, when hope rises.

It is up to you, in this time, to break past what drags us down,

Trust me once more, it’ll make the shackles, weigh less

So that we can carry ourselves, further off away from the ledge.”

He walks over to the boy, places a hand on his shoulder

As the sun breaks through, causing the boy to shield his eyes,

And after a moment passes, the sun still shines, his vision returns

Finding he’s back in his room, in front of his window, of dried up rain,

No figure in the puddle,

No clouds hiding the sun,

And the boy, finds same those fading memories, intact,

And slowly, a smile, stretches across his face, melting sorrow,

Looking ahead, to hope

Death’s Keep

Posted on by the_dorian_poe
Art by John Kenn Mortensen

She reached upwards, for safety, with her peach skinned hand,

While reflected in the murky, engulfing sea, was death

As it grabbed her ankle, with its snake skinned hand,

Pulling her away, towards the abyssinian inferno,

Her soft, full of life hand, was eroding into nothing

As her savior, had no means of liberating her from doom,

Tying the dock anchor around himself, he dove into the abyss,

Without sight to guide him, he felt for her, but touched emptiness

Instead of the cascade of her embrace, as he was enveloped by distance,

So he slowly climbed back, onto the petrified dock

Where he could stare out, into dark and violent waters,

With waves, crashing ferociously, against the trembling banks,

No longer, could he hear her, submerged into death’s clutches,

But who could, over the constant crash, on the boundless battlefield,

Where soldiers, lose their nerve, standing at the crest

Being baited, by those lurking beneath the hollow surface,

And like those soldiers, he stood frozen in the unknown

That grasped at life, and dragged it through affliction,

Beyond his fear, there was his purpose, sinking rapidly,

And to resurrect her, he’d have to venture, into the deep.

~II~

He climbed into a beaten lifeboat, paddled, against the waves

Which grew in its brutality, but couldn’t restrain his persistence,

Onward, further from the platform, into the open grave,

Crucial exchanges of blows, paddle to water, overlapping

Onto the frail boat, as the waves, growling in their approach,

Fight to consume the traveler, in the sound of watery fury,

As he paddled, frantically, he kept sight on the horizon

Past the plunging valley, intertwined with waves,

Narrowly escaping, the clutches of the crushing drowning,

He found himself, in the abounding open, on calmer tides,

For it was, eerily quiet, no birds squawking overhead

Or the wrestle, of the current against the side of the boat,

Nor the paddle, breaking thought the surface of the water,

There was no sound here, as he yelled out to the Devil,

“Come back and fight me, for she is not yours to take!”

He couldn’t be certain, if those words, even projected,

Surrounded by the choppy water, beside him, sits his terror,

As a faint sound, flows, along the tops of the water,

A siren guide, appears, with no desire to be his aid,

“Hello, silly traveler, who has foolishly ventured too deep

For you do not belong amongst these riffs, reverse your path.”

“I cannot, I’ve come to retrieve a life, taken in error.”

The spirit chuckles lightly, pauses briefly, and echoes in response,

“Death makes no mistakes, precise, for it’s by great design.”

“She doesn’t belong beyond the black, for she is of great importance,

Your design is gravely flawed, and she must be revived”

She chuckles again, and comes in closer to the still boat,

“You believe, you are currently speaking with death,

That I am the one, who can revive life, to be amongst the animate,

You, silly traveler, are the one who is gravely flawed,

To death’s sunken dwelling, is no simple tiptoe trail,

Your vigor will be tested, before accessing the devil’s domain,

But I am curious, I’d like to see the outcome of this encounter.”

She floats her finger, pointing further, into the cold hush,

And told him to continue, towards the bleak eternal,

Then vanishes, with a nudge of wind, forcing the sail.

~III~

Alone, in the dusk, with the boat lamp highlighting solitude,

Silence reemerges, drowning the traveler in the ominous,

A faint howling silence, that seizes the boat’s motion

While the stillness, gets louder, and slightly more discernable

Each time a wave, subtly splashes along, the boat’s feeble side,

A voice, calling out from beyond the darkness, his focus

Searching for him, below the crumbling shed of light,

No, it wasn’t her, a voice that sends biting pricking needles

All throughout his being, shaking him down to his knees,

He now recognizes, his voice, that keeps repeating an utterance,

It continues to circle, like a pack of vultures, about to strike,

Suddenly, in a cold snap of a second’s tic, “You cannot save her!”

A monstrous echo, that sent a daunting chill, into his chest

At which he grabbed, and gasped for empty breaths,

Refusing to sink into the crushing deep, back against the wind,

The traveler stood up, grabbed the paddles and took charge,

As he noticed a slither, hastily warping the water,

Streaming like a torpedo, aiming straight, at the feeble boat,

With growing raging waves, so fierce, following closely,

Nearing the boat, with tremors from the speeding approach,

With the winds on his side, he evaded wave, after wave,

Until, he steered too far in, and was struck, by a forceful current,

The boat, reduced to splintered pieces, now floating, aimlessly,

As the traveler, tumbles along the stirring undercurrent.

~IV~

Waking up, after an uncertain, amount of time,

The traveler finds himself, on the shore, of a brittle island,

A voice, snatches his attention, spins him to face death’s throne

By suddenly booming, the very first audible sound

He has heard, since the first steps down this rabbit hole,

“Are you the bringer, of this, supposed force majeure

That believes, he can sway and overturn my mind,

No one, who is snatched into my web, ever gets released.”

Shaken down to the ground, with fear and anger battling,

The traveler, with only his eyes, looked up at the abductor,

“She belongs unchained, far from your dominion,

She isn’t finished, there’s more for her to accomplish

And removing her from existence, stunted her growth.”

“And why should I be concerned, her meaning, is minimal. “

“To you, she’s a faceless object, occupying space that’s irrelevant,

Except to me, those grounds she graces, are the purest,

This is my end, not hers, for it was my fault we crashed,

I hesitated, froze, at the barrelling trailer, stampeding,

And colliding with our vehicle, sending us towards the edge,

But a sudden collision, with the sturdy dock barrier

Kept me inside, while my little girl, had been taken,

As if I had willingly, given her up, to the black hooded cloak.”

“Your daughter, vacated existence, onto the carving of my scythe,

Could the devastation, really be boiled down to your failure,

Your weight to carry, as you suffer from the doom of the crash,

Yes, for it’ll plague your days, an exemplary hell, on earth.”

“Unless you take me, let me sink in the void forever

While my daughter continues, and lives out her days.”

A grumbling silence, as death slowly descends,

Coming, to face the traveler, standing on the fragile shore,

Still towering over him, death peers down to deliver a response,

“Two beings, swim in limbo, and I’d gladly swallow both,

But by design, only one is required, to fulfill destiny,

Which has brought you to me, pleading for her innocence,

To which I accept, for even death can be bargained upon,

Your journey was true, and not at all a simple task,

Look, for you have proven yourself, despite your crushing doubt.”

Death points at the rising light, as a shadow, alongside

Gradually appears, walking through, to the other side,

The traveler stares, as his travels conclude, and is finally at peace,

Death floats over to him, and softly whispers… we must go.

~V~

Her peach skinned hand, feeling the gentle cool breeze

Brushing by, and up to her shoulder, to perch,

She gazes out, into the swaying crowd of the ocean valley,

A whisper in gratitude, and a tear, for the one who sacrificed.