Something
Something
is waiting,
it may be
in the silence,
the unbroken
grey
of sky,
or the call
and cry
of a single
freedom bird,
lost
in the confusions,
in the government
of trees,
but something
is waiting,
unbroken,
alone
and standing
in the sunlight,
leaves
of modernity
and media
fragile,
resting,
wearily,
on the shoulders
of this
slow passing
darkness
of night,
for something
is here
in the dawn
falling
in white feathers
of whispers,
waiting,
in the trees,
empty
of love
empty
of light,
something
is waiting
to be
and discovered,
deeper
in the shadows,
through
the longest hours
of the shortest day,
behind
the pressing
steel,
the dying
of ideas
and territories,
beneath
the first rain
of political doubt
from a barren
forgetfulness
of sky,
something
is here,
eating life
from our
own hands,
and freedoms
in the darkness,
waiting
and waiting,
for hate
he builds
slowly,
so slowly,
unobserved,
his branches
of cages,
stealing hope
from truth
digging holes
for bones
the deaths
of ideas,
the sweetness
of decay,
and democracy.
Feel free to contact me. Be nice to know who my audience is and perhaps you can suggest some further topics or themes for my writing! And do give me feedback!
p1964km@googlemail.com
