Torn
He sits beside this riverbed
Night comes closer with every breath that his lungs play upon
A fierce child, now smiling to the last golden streaks of a dying sun
A forlorn tune of melancholy sighs from afar
He's strangely aloof,
Looking in the air with fragrance of silent pines
In this hour of demising colours he looks back in subtle longing,
The world was beautiful just last night
The world was brighter just this morning
His laughter had charmed the whitest of moon meditating behind the frosty clouds
People actually laughed at his jokes
His eyes mirrored the brightest star of a darkened heaven.
And now all gone, like a morning dream, it waned into the blue,
With a promise of never coming back.
The boy tilts his head, it's quite heavy,
Bending his spine like a bamboo stick
As if to check its pliancy
“Was I right?” he asks in murmur.
Then smiles, quiet like the snow
Now when all is lost who cares?
His mind sings a song of old days
Visualizing an old prayer of two hearts
“There shall be no regrets after all.”
YOU ARE READING
Untamed
PoetryIt's about Right and Wrong, Fair and Foul, Black and White but in the end it's about you and me Lan Zhan [These poems either convey the story of WWX and LWJ or are inspired by them(but not necessarily follow the course of their story)]
