darkdivine
Gelt
- Feb 8, 2022
- 18
Her eyes were as deep and as troubled as murky waters
Reflecting back her dissonant thoughts.
The setting sun with its fading warmth and massive form evanescencing with silence.
A silence that crept and crawled until the sun was gone but the girl was not.
Solace could not be found beneath the blanket of darkness, just as it was not in day.
Nor could the numbing burn of winter air on bare skin move her freezing form.
She simply stared off... There, but not truly there.
Present, yet unseen as the air that began to sting her eyes.
Tumultuous as life could be, as exuberant, and bright as it was,
It too had begun to wane.
Not of old age or of illness but from that of experiences that weighed heavily on the joints of the soul.
In frost and darkness and howling winds she yielded to what would be.
Ready.
Time would do her no kindness in death,
As it had done in her life.
But seasons came and seasons went like a changing of the tides.
And all the world around her and the creatures thereon went about their ways.
For just as she was in life, in death she was just as inconsequentially, insignificant.
(Had nowhere else to share this poem that popped up in my head I made, so I figured it would be okay here. If not I apologize. The picture is mine as well.)
Reflecting back her dissonant thoughts.
The setting sun with its fading warmth and massive form evanescencing with silence.
A silence that crept and crawled until the sun was gone but the girl was not.
Solace could not be found beneath the blanket of darkness, just as it was not in day.
Nor could the numbing burn of winter air on bare skin move her freezing form.
She simply stared off... There, but not truly there.
Present, yet unseen as the air that began to sting her eyes.
Tumultuous as life could be, as exuberant, and bright as it was,
It too had begun to wane.
Not of old age or of illness but from that of experiences that weighed heavily on the joints of the soul.
In frost and darkness and howling winds she yielded to what would be.
Ready.
Time would do her no kindness in death,
As it had done in her life.
But seasons came and seasons went like a changing of the tides.
And all the world around her and the creatures thereon went about their ways.
For just as she was in life, in death she was just as inconsequentially, insignificant.
(Had nowhere else to share this poem that popped up in my head I made, so I figured it would be okay here. If not I apologize. The picture is mine as well.)
