leaden gazelle
The night dunes stretch
across the fields of glory.
What once was lively and
full of chatter, where even
critters dared to dream,
it seems as if it's all so
distant,
now.
A drop of dawn to taste the
freedom unlike any other;
extremists you condemned
to thought of singular division.
Have the sands always screamed
this loud?
The night dunes shriek
as the revolver loads,
gauging only a fraction
of the past's gilded face.
A lone figure, standing amidst
the hurricane, with a calming eye -
and slowly drifts across the town
to rebuild what was once
impeccable imperfection.
Once the first step taken
Towards rebuilding the past,
Threads of memories long forgotten
Forced themselves upon the
Final fatality expected.
Sixth cycle, and the
Severed ties rediscover the
Weight they held on one another. The
Night recolors itself in melancholic, but
Tender hues. To
Elevate the night to godhood, the knight loads
Twelve bullets into the cylinder.
The night dunes stretch
across the fields of sorrow.
Of the revolving path,
what remains is hollow.
hollow vortex
real loom
shell tundra