As after sunset fadeth in the west;
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death’s second self, that seals up all in rest.’
From W. Shakespeare. Sonnet 73
The evening light weaves a wandering way,
Around the fading sounds from a dismal day,
Here echoes find a final home,
Among the many that only roam.
Open your ears and listen well,
The silent walls have stories to tell,
Every brick holds a word lost to a lie,
The cement that binds them spells a cry.
Woven in the walls is a will to survive,
Here is music that once set a world alive,
Deafened by sound the children dance,
Under coloured lights that only entrance,
Here is the culmination of numerous lies,
The children seek help and only truth cries,
‘What you see and hear is far from me,
You will be only what you will be.’
The sands of time hold the footprint of one,
That encountered this earth; a job well done,
Here we have seeds of life that were sown,
On a fertile plot and so have grown,
With no help except from nature’s laws,
Life answered the call with teeth and claws,
Selected, our ancestors climbed out of the mire,
To find the rewards life must desire.
Softly, softly the sounds whisper so sweet,
While the wind winds a wreath around your feet,
Step carefully among the flowers so strewn,
Listen acutely for a long lost tune,
Watch the horizon for the slightest sign
Of order in the overall design,
Time cannot allow you to simply stand still,
For you convey the quintessence of self-will.
On this day I offer my friends across the pond these words that I have tried to form around my thoughts.
And this photograph
|'TWILIGHT' From Words from Thought|