The past, like an uttered gasp, Melted into the present's frozen chasm, It comes and goes, it stays and stabs, In black and white painting the gods |
The morrow, like an eerie howl, Dead yet unborn, into the brawl, It baits and strands, it flees and taints, Turning the nightmares into wants |
In now's chasm our trail gets lost, Forever strangled by outlanders' lust, Eclipsed by wants and gods alike, Awaiting for it's saviour's grasp |

by ~elizabeth-caffey
by *FloriandraThe mist is soothing underneath the silver lining, where shadows blend the darkness and the light, and every grain of dust reflects the words in countless colours |
--
We sleep between the storm that was and the storm which has to come. And the storm which fails to come...
--
soulmates never die
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