Blue shades glued to eyes,
Framing my lonely loss,
Mixed up in the seconds fuss,
My iron heart exposed to rust.
Behind my shoulder,
lies the unforgiving snow boulder,
Beyond my eyes,
It’s wet, consuming a soul’s slice,
Encompassed in my bones,
Burns a chill, freezing thy will,
Another moment flees,
There’s more, more emptiness to fill.
Its time’s skill of kill,
Empty yet natures will,
Alas, ironies blanks thy fill,
In silence, into serendipity,
Where smile fades melancholy of clowns,
Tears held back for another dark night,
Winning the battle, but loosing the fight,Another moment seemingly bright,
Till another dusk,
In patience wait thy must,
For time shall come back to pry,
To wet the cheeks, widen the creeks,
Laying low, on knees ready to bow,
In hope, in pain,To rise again, to learn to grow.
Prevalent in square people's archive,
Its the circle of life.