Diaries of An Immigrant Soul, Pt.27: Worn Out Promises

what a hanging vision that lingers 'round the bend,
a fading figure in the darkness, of wounds to never mend...

and a melody from far away, humming a song from yesterday',
one song may not differ, but many a tune would stray away!

for when it rises, out of blue, 
there will be no singing then,
nor pipes blown, for me or you!
o' friend...
heed the fray, else with time;
yours will grow weary,
and out of rhyme!

be no fool for sounds of love,
there waits no heaven for the good above.
and there are neither dreams, nor wishing wells,
there is only strife, for the tolling bells!

and when time should read its fail at last,
the latter may stumble too,
'pon the remnant past.

hence, 
stay your wonders, and let past bygone,
that you may live in pain no more,
and with what's left; do sing your song!

for now my heart, it stumbles,
too; 'pon things i do not know,
the little hope built up, crumbles,
for the winds to carry,
and the storms to blow.

what fear resides in the dawning promises of willing hearts;
so little remains, when the veiling widow finally parts!

By:
A.r. (Black-Iris) Bazian

(A.K.A. The Black Iris, Of The Luminous Imperious)

13-jan-2013

Reviews

[Tate Morgan]

This is the best poem you ever wrote.It reminds me of classic liturature.You are gifted I am like you in this thought I often doubt the promises of the lord above.I often wonder why. Let us goi forth to be goiod men and not follow or worship but lead the less fortuned to safety and wish on them happiness.

[Sami Khalil]

A great write indeed...Thank you for sharing...:)