mountain mist

And what more is an echo,
except a longing for sound to remain,
a fight against vanish.

A madman in a straight jacket,
bouncing off the walls of his room,
the walls of an alley way,
the mountains of his mind.

But my greatest sorrow is hearing the echoes,
of my ancestors bouncing off the walls of my heart,
unable to release them,
except by my pen,
but this echo,
is just a reverberation that no one understands,
much like that madman in reprimand.


W.E. dictionary

A sound, crying, searching for it’s home.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s