Sunday, March 20, 2011

Holding His Weight

"Oh! How Beautiful The Sands Of Time."
By Skye Lyon
No one can contain his body and store it beneath the ground...

Such inviting prose rolling off his rugged tongue. Not a scar worn proudly nor a fought battle won; oddly, it comes as no surprise he never utters a single sound. Some hold preconceptions of him as the tenacious son, in actuality, it was her who left him the somber one. From point A to the point of no discretion, for years he has been plagued and tiresome. He loves no one; however, I love him. As I gaze upon him every morning, I realize he is my only one. To win his heart, I race to collect the glitters falling from the sun but the impact shows an outcome that is little to none. He is sand in the wind gliding ever so gingerly, slowly dispersing across the midday sky. Leaving his unfinished story behind...

He is gone.

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