Lost Shores
R RoseAnn V. Shawiak
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Furrowed eyebrows knitted together upon a forehead of
ingenuity.
Tassled, shrouded in mystery, knotted into a sphere of
intelligence, caught up in a whirlpool, neverendingly
spinning to inner depths of silent waking.
Forgiving the audacity of life, surrendering to it's
will and nature, while casting aside all human endeavors,
in search of complacent mirroring.
Narrowing of strolling pathways, set astride the colony
of death, following inane terms of life.
Altogether, finding no solace nor hope in the joining
years set before us at birth.
Concaving, the atmosphere turns itself, creating a new
haven, a cave of exploration, existing in deepest labyrinths
of the mind.
Grasped tightly, afraid of letting go, the incognizance of
brevity slips inside, tattering the nervous system provided
by life.
Folding in upon strands held so gingerly in childish hands,
are the wonder and curiosity thought to have been killed
when very young.
There are no more belittling strides to be taken, all have
been laid aside while the memory of forsaken love treads
drowningly in waters deep, of lost shores, forgotten
from this day forth.
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