Fates

The last Bohemian,
    emancipated from the servitude,
from the tearing of raw flesh,
from the tears

falling through another cloud,
another whisper,

colored the world
    another color,
    another shade of grey.

The eternal eclipse
of a whisper,
    blown on a breeze

stinging the respect
out of the words,
    nothing more than a dream,
a story.

Passed down from generations
    passed into myth
irreconcilable to eternity.

Posted by Utopia at September 30, 2006 12:23 AM

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