Echo From the Wayside

An all too familiar place, which some always seem to return to. No matter how hard they fight against it.

Familiar forgotten ground beneath me,

I have graced this place before.

Were I a sword, its bonds would sheath me,

Battle songs be heard no more.

How death did not claim me, I know not,

For the fall was long and far.

Strength was dissolved, inner valour did rot,

Intangible, weak as they are.

I ask myself why I tread upon high

When the fall be deathly deep.

No answer, but the familiar cry

From this place where angels weep.

The cry doth harrow yet still do I rise

To scale to the heights once more,

Donning strength and valour, my frail diguise,

To leave this burdened shore.

Reviews

[zainul]

Love the amazing piece in rhymes.
Well penned.