The road bends beyond my sight
And I am stuck again…
The dangerous but irresistible pastime
Lures me to forget the ill-begotten pain
The sunlight peeks through…
While I wonder about the flight
Of a lonely eagle over the green mountain
The candlelight flickers…
And as I watch it burn out
I light a fire from the dying flames
And I choose again to take the road oft taken
Just to show it can be walked a different way
And I wish I could make all my mistakes all-over again
Just to get a chance to live through them.
I smoke on…
Till I burn my lips
And as the remnants of the smoke swirl around
I keep driving…
On the endless road to ecstasy
And the old music
Presents a new escape
I finally move the stone
From a rotting sorrow
Letting the sunshine wash my tears away
I await salvation…
On the unnamed street
In the sweaty room
Of a faceless prostitute called life.
3 comments:
Its just....gorgeous.....displays the beauty of your thinking...your images....they take my breath away....and I'm left wondering how someone can write in a such a photographic manner...you are just out of the crowd.....Love it....keep writing
"In the sweaty room
Of a faceless prostitute called life."
Is it true that life can be bought...Used in the way, we want it to or is it an illusion that we force ourselves to believe...Seeking respite from the claustrophobic shell of existence.....? Or May be is it , just that the right price needs to be paid or may be the right art of bargaining needs to be learned....
Loved the poem...Shine On
if dats lyf as d finishng lines say............den is it under compulsion or willingly ?.......watevr d"faceless prostitute" has got a beautiful facade in ur verses.........
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