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Dec 9, 2014

A passing breeze, a haunting memory
Sand slipping away past your outstretched fingertips
A lucid dream, a forgotten face
Ebbing away like a trickling stream
The last dying embers of a waning fire
A raggedy plaything tossed aside, strewn and unkempt
Drifting thoughts, vague memories, out of focus
A fallen soldier, descending down into the gaping trenches
Leaves floating down to the beckon of Mother Earth the Temptress

Never to rise again from the sanguine graves they lay buried in
  Nothing but a blurred haze remains of what once was
Stepped upon and trampled down into the ground
Lost forevermore, deserted, forgotten and abandoned.





I decided not to give a title to this poem, because I think it is meant to represent whatever comes to your mind when you read it. If you have anything in particular that is brought into mind by these verses, feel free to share what this poem meant to you below.

The Phoenix Post

Oct 23, 2014
    The author, bows his head in shame, sad that the blog been dead for many a year (nearly three to be precise). The author tries to jab a stick into whatsoever remains, hoping that a proverbial Phoenix may arise from the ashes, in all it's pristine fiery glory. But alas, procrastination, laziness and general dreariness are not merely to blame, albeit those might be deciding factors in this death. We can go on and on, cross-examining what went wrong, but the one concrete fact remains the same: a death happened, and it doesn't matter why. Hopefully, this post title will invoke the Phoenix's spirit to lift itself out the ashes.

    So much has happened in these last few years, so many moments that needed to be cherished, penned, transformed into letters, words and sentences, all of them remain lost, a foggy distant memories that pique up sub-consciously.

    Time is a unmerciful bitch, her reach leaving all powerless, clawing away at everything and anything that happens to chance upon its deathly grasp. Years fly by without notice, everything seems a blur, perchance a dream that one hasn't quite completely forgotten. A lurching fear persists, this unguided bogey meandering about, being tossed about hither and thither, never knowing when the tracks give way to a steep cliff leading to a never-ending abyss. Or rather, so many jerks have happened, never realizing that this fall into the abyss has already happened, and has been going on forever, the bumps on the tracks but a dream of the distant past, as you sleep, conserving energy, hoping to one day awaken when the ride has stopped. But, sadly, it never will.

    Things that have always seemed absolute and certain wear away, and it is not until whatsoever little that remains crumbles in your fingertips, lost forever to the heartless bitch , Time, that one realizes that certainty is merely a notion, a hope. Dilapidation has been happening before your very eyes without you ever realizing it, the shift so gradual and concealed, that change is but a little obnoxious fly buzzing in your ear, merely an annoyance as you wave your hand trying to drive it away to a territory not within your own domain.

    A hollowed, empty void remains in us all. We're not quite sure how to fill it, or rather, where it even is, or what it may be, but it is tuned within us, a knowing, a certainty, that it us our quest to find the piece of that puzzle and put it in its place, only then shall one find true peace. And this journey is but a race against Time to make sure that as you pass by your piece, you find it, pick it up, and put it in its place. But, sadly, stops along the way distract us, tacky shiny toys attract our attention, begging to be played with, a temptation to quit altogether and remain in a boundless limbo, surrounded by emptiness.