in poem •  10 months ago

Behind glass and wood that looks through brightness

Always prolong and sitting boxed in that looms in shadow

out there witnesses the dreams that want to be

Out there to see life going on

Hides from weakness and illnesses to be seen from the eyes and not and being inflicted

It echoes and ripples through out with no moment in between

Wondering if there's any scenario to achieve

Only to hear more echoes

Never hearing any calls or see any calls

Sitting and hoping for something

While specks come.

Specks stay.

Specks go.

One, It is getting close.

The echo still looms

The grip lingers but it has weakened

There are wishes it would've ended many moons ago.

There are wishes that the song to be heard

Never had it received to hear the song

The shadow has a grip that has depleted over the suns

A grip that paralyzes and drains

It is only ignore to fill spite and ignorance in return

Spreading only the unnecessary while that which stands on the border

It's actions strikes many times.

In return the window slowly cracks but it slowly opens for an escape.

The rays piercing through is what keeps the life

Always singing into the drums to keep running.

Getting there

Still Getting there

Will get there

Despite the echoes

That comes and goes.

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