I wrote this one recently, and I'm a still a little fuzzy as to what I was thinking about when I wrote it. Not sure. But I do enjoy reading over it and trying to interpret what I might have been contemplating.



A Trail of Grey

It is with forked tongue
That you speak to me
And say not to worry
As my doubts engulf
And my simple mind yearns
For more complexity
And a greater understanding
To be able to hear
And to know
And to recognize
When I am being misled
When the ashes are collected
And reassembled
Into some approximation
Of the figure
They once represented
There is no phoenix
There is no rebirth
There is only a sad reminder
Of what can never be
What can only stare and hope
And curse the events
As they played out
Across time
Across hearts
For mine is left broken
And worn
And left wanting for the figure
As it once stood
This ash-covered heart
Is pitiful to look upon
As it’s weakened beat
Causes the soot to rise and fall
And each beat dissipates
As I sink into an acceptance
Of the rest of my years
Laid out before me
Nursing this poor vessel
Toward its final destination
Leaving a trail of grey
In my wake