Friday, September 12, 2008


Violent tragedies tear through unbelieving eyes,
unveiled minds cradle the bitter remorse.
Pursuit of truth left them broken,
it flooded over the headstrong.
Now seasoned with rage and torn with malice,
they impersonate impersonality.
Falling into dreams of nothing,
they wait for the many sunsets to come.
One after the other they come,
filling the silence with colour,
blood and tears making the paint.
Years roll over and darkness enters life,
as graceful as a pirouette.
Like shadows in streams linger,
they collect the memories thrown across the shore,
by devils disguised as treasures.
Time continues to creep on,
like love,
it fails them also.

-Michael Harris

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